


Pluto

by bikelock28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Nymphadora Tonks, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, One Shot, Protective Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-08-04 10:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 113,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikelock28/pseuds/bikelock28
Summary: A series of Lupin/ Tonks one-shots. Ch 54 now up:"March up to her and ask her if she fancies a drink,""No," said Lupin stiffly."Why not?" Black whined."She'll say no. Chances are she won't ever want to speak to me again, and-" Lupin cut himself off."And you like her too much to entertain that possibility," Black chuckled, "You really are smitten, aren't you?"





	1. Glittery

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Lupin/Tonks one-shot series. Chapters will be in no particular order and set in the canon universe. Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, multiple PoVs- the whole shebang. I hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, here's a moment set during Order of the Phoenix.

_Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame,_

_And when you said "Hi" I forgot my dang name,_

_Set my heart aflame,_

_Every part aflame,_

_This is not a game._

\- Hamilton,  _Satisfied._

Remus Lupin is kind. He is articulate. He is brave.

He is also unbelievably sexy.

Tonks isn't sure how she didn't notice it for the first few months they were acquainted, because now it's nearly all she thinks about. His curly hair is neatly cropped, begging to be pulled and rumpled and have hands run through it. His features are quietly pretty rather than Bill handsome or Sirius beautiful. Tonks likes that; understatedness suits him. His eyes are sad and hazel and achingly kind. His smile's often sad too. It's gentle and understanding. He understands a lot.

She could listen to Remus' accent all day. It's noticeable but not as distractingly strong as Mundungus' or McGonagall's, and he doesn't mind when the twins mimic him. His accent lilts and sways as he stretches vowels and rolls his Rs. He's got one of those voices which like he's got a permanent sore throat. Husky. Masculine. Inadvertently sensual. What would it sound like in her ear? She likes how Lupin's mouth twitches when he's amused. It makes her smile too but more than that it makes her want to press her lips against his grin and suck on his bottom lip. More often than not he doesn't wear a tie and keeps the top button or two of his shirt undone, and Tonks finds herself eyeing his throat where the hoarse noise comes from. She watches his Adam's apple bob when he swallows and how his neck moves when he cocks his head. Sometimes she can see the spot where his clavicles meet, and it makes her imagine it would feel like to run a finger down from those collar-bones, over his chest to his ribcage. She considers, endlessly, what Remus would look like with his shirt off. He's thin, no doubt about that, but Tonks has seen him carry armfuls of books upstairs and restrain an angry Sirius, so she likes to imagine that there's the gentle outline of muscle underneath those cardigans.

He rolls his sleeves up most of the time so Tonks sees a lot of his arms, at least up to the elbow. Lupin's not had much luck at holding down a job but they're workman's arms. Wand callouses, red elbows from leaning on the table, flecks of ink from writing. Slender and bony. Every few weeks there'll be scratches and plasters on his arms. She knows that Sirius buys him a potion to control the wolf transformations, but he still has to get ill and become the monster and spend the night in that body, and he can't help catching himself on his own claws. It makes Tonks feel sick. Remus doesn't talk about it much but she knows that it must hurt, physically and emotionally and in every way. It amazes her how quickly she stopped being startled by his condition and started feeling sympathy for him. It amazes her more how little she cares about it now. Whenever Remus notices somebody looking at the cuts on his arms he rolls his sleeves down, and she feels ashamed.

His hands are the most distracting. They're so elegant; the opposite of Tonks' own clumsy pair. He's neat with his cutlery. He scrabbles urgently in his pockets when he needs his wand. He plays piano sometimes, noodling away on the old grand in the Grimmauld Place drawing room, and Tonks watches his hands intently as he plays. Sirius had lessons in classical as a child and hated them, so now he likes improvise his own music, thwacking out thumping allegro rock riffs. That's much more Tonks' style of music than the Chopin and Beethoven that Lupin plays, but she could watch for hours the way his fingers press smoothly on the keys. Then there's the movement of Remus' feet on pedals and the flicker of excitement in his eye as he reaches up to turn the sheet-music's page. On occasion he and Sirius attempt duets but it usually ends in friendly bickering and bumped elbows. Tonks' favourite thing Lupin's hands do, though, is touch books. Of course he'd treat books with a careful tenderness. He slowly runs his index finger down spines and she wonders what that would feel like on  _her_  spine. He licks his finger to turn the page (his tongue, his  _tongue_ ….). He rubs his thumb over front covers. He smooths dog-eared pages flat.

Remus' hands are one of the many things about him which seem extremely deliberate, like the way he moves around rooms as if he has mapped his exact route. He is a man of control and Tonks wonders what he would be like not in control. What it would be like the  _make him_  lose control. To be the one in control of him. Is he into that, or is he like most blokes and wants to be assertive in bed? But Remus isn't like most blokes. He isn't like anybody. He's so  _cool._ Not in a deliberate or showboating way; he doesn't need to put on airs or affectations because he's got quiet confidence in himself and who he is. He can join in self-deprecatingly when the twins and Sirius rib him, and he can laugh at others while also keeping an eye to make sure that they're not too insulted by the teasing. He can be the dad of the group or he can tilt back on his chair sniggering with Sirius. Tonks is all extremes but Lupin is balanced; he's gentlemanly not mannered. His clothes are scruffy but never slobby. He doesn't thinks he's better than anybody because he's read books and knows about Shakespeare. He's got amazing patience. She watched him with the kids over the Summer and he's part-teacher part-friend; they trust his judgement without reckoning that he's talking down to them. They all think he's cool.

At night she shuts her eyes and fantasizes picturing his. She dreams of his husky voice and wakes up with his name on her lips. She can barely look him eye at Order meeting the next day or when they're sitting together on the back porch sharing idle chatter and a chocolate bar. They've done that a few times now it's becoming the highlight of her day.

"You're quiet today," he notes one morning as he crumples the empty chocolate wrapper into his pocket, "Everything alright?"

What is she supposed to say?

_Sorry I'm quiet this morning but it's difficult to gossip about Percy Weasley when I'm so distracted by that patch of skin I can see where your shirt's untucked at the hip._

_Do you want to drop everything and come upstairs with me? I won't tell if you won't._

_Everything's fine apart from the fact that I am falling for you harder. And harder, Remus. Harder._

_I get myself off thinking about you._

_The only thing that could make me madder than not kissing you right now, is kissing you right now._

"I- err. I…"- that's another thing that happens; she gets tongue-tied around him. Which is ridiculous because they were  _friends_ first, not to mention excruciating because Lupin could probably deliver an improvised lecture on Red Caps or politics or the meaning of life while half-asleep. Asleep- yeah, that's a good angle, she should stick with that. Tonks yawns and tells him with a shrug, "I'm just tired,"

"Right," he nods thoughtfully (how the hell does he make nodding so attractive? Or maybe it's the thoughtfulness), "Being in the Order's exhausting, isn't it? I'd forgotten about that,"

"Did you miss it?" she asks, "I know you missed the people, but as a…lifestyle or whatever, did you miss that?" Lifestyle? What a stupid thing to say.

"I didn't miss the danger," Remus says quickly, "But I suppose I missed having a purpose. Maybe miss isn't the right word,"

 _Having a purpose_ ….this, she realises, is the closest he'll get to a proper career.

"Hmm," she mumbles. They lapse into silence. Tonks often finds long silences awkward but with him it's comfortable, at least because she isn't about to stutter something else stupid. She steals a glance at him; he's looking out into the ugly dark thickets that surround the garden, hands in pockets and hair rumpled slightly by the wind. If she leaned over she could reach out and muss it up further. Run her fingers down from his hair to his ear and jaw and mouth...

"Remus, are you there?" calls a voice. Kingsley.

Tonks snaps her head away from Lupin and looks down at her boots.

"Yes, I'm outside," he answers, "Do you need me?"

"Please," comes Kingsley's reply.

"Of course,"

Lupin gets to his feet and stretches. Tonks hears the bones in his knees click. She tries not to watch the at the way his fingers stretch skywards or how he screws his eyes closed, or that bigger patch of skin where his shirt's riding up.

"Bye, then," he says, "Will you be around later?". He  _wants_ her to be around later?

"Err, maybe," Tonks answers apologetically, "Hours are a bit unpredictable at the office,"

He nods (again with the sexy nod) and mutters, "Well, I'll see you when I see you, Tonks. Out here again?"

He  _does_ want her to be around later, and  _alone_ together. Merlin. She thought she'd seen flickers of this before but he's never said anything out loud until now. No, slow down, he hasn't said anything, she shouldn't get carried away.

"Yeah, of course," she answers, trying not to beam like an idiot.

He flashes his kind smile again (Remus would never beam like an idiot), nods, and disappears inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. If you have a moment to review, I'd be very grateful. Thanks again, and have a fab day.


	2. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during Harry’s birthday tea, Deathly Hallows Chapter Six.

The patronus pattered across the grass, materialised through the window and leapt onto the table. Tonks recognised it as Arthur's, and was immediately set on guard. The weasel sat up on its back legs, glanced round, and said in Arthur Weasley's voice, "Minister of Magic coming with me". Then it faded away.

Tonks was still looking at the place where the weasel had disappeared when her husband jumped to his feet, said, "We shouldn't be here", stammered an apology to Harry, grabbed Tonks' hand and yanked her away from the dinner table. She barely had time to swallow her mouthful of cake before they were out of the door.

"Remus, wait-" she protested, knocking into the doorframe.

"We need to go," he answered seriously.

"But it's Harry's birthday. We can't run off like this without saying goodbye," Tonks told him indignantly. She tried to wriggle out of Remus' grip, but he kept his fingers clamped firmly around her wrist. He dragged her out across the yard and onto the grass.

"We can't run into the Minister. Harry won't mind,"

"Yes he will. Give me half a minute to run back inside to give him a hug goodbye,"

"No,"

"Remus, I-"

"Just once will you not argue with me," he snapped.

"Don't talk to me like that," Tonks shot back, stung.

"Alright. Alright, I'm sorry. But we can't risk it. It's okay, we'll see them all tomorrow," he attempted to cajole her. He shoved his foot into a gap in the fence and used it as leverage to clamber over.

"But Harry's birthday's  _today,"_

"We're leaving  _now,"_  Remus said firmly, "Climb over fence and we'll apparate,"

Tonks folded her arms. "No,"

"Dora. Climb. Over. This. Fence,"

"It's his seventeenth,"

Remus' jaw stiffened. If it had been any other man Tonks would have readied herself for the explosion, but her husband wasn't like that; he was calm and collected. It was intensely infuriating. His tone was coolly factual as he told her: "I warned you countless times that this is what life with a werewolf is like. I begged you to stay away from me. You refused, you told me that it'd be worth it. You said you were prepared for this,"

Tonks held his gaze for a long moment. He's right, damn him, as usual. She was aware of all the dangers being with him posed, physically and politically. She'd always known, and Remus had spelt it out again and again for months. And every time she'd told him she didn't care.  _Money where your mouth is time, kiddo._

"You are worth it," she said, and jumped over the fence.

Remus' sigh of relief was audible. He took her hand again, more gently this time, and together they disapparated. If Tonks thought that was the end of it through, she was mistaken.

They reappeared on the path outside the flat and let themselves in. Theirs (Remus was having trouble with it being "theirs" and "ours". He'd only lived there properly since a few days before their wedding, and was still getting his head around being a resident of Tonks' flat, not a guest. It was, she thought fondly, very sweet) was the ground floor flat and Tonks headed straight to put the kettle on. Remus usually settled onto the sofa with a book, but this time he followed her into the kitchen and began to pace. Tonks shot him a questioning look but his eyes were glued to the floor. She poured them both a cup of tea but when she held his out he waved her away dismissively.

"You alright, darling?"

"Hmph,"

"D'you not want tea? I only spilt a couple of drops," she said, trying to raise a smile from him. He reached the wall, spun on his heel, and paced back the other way. Tonks rolled her eyes, "Are you going to tell me what this is about, or shall I spend all evening guessing?"

He tore his eyes from the floor and looked at her. "The baby,"

Tonks' heart sank. She'd only told him about it two days ago. She'd gripped his hand, eyes shining, and told him that she was pregnant. Remus had stared at her agog, until finally he'd run a hand through his hair and began to recite a seemingly endless list of worries and possible disasters. He hadn't congratulated her, hadn't hugged or kissed her, hadn't put his hand on her stomach to feel where their baby was growing. He hadn't even smiled.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she said, trying to keep the stiffness out of her tone.

"I know. It's just…what happened-"

"I understand why we had to leave, I just wanted to say goodbye to Harry," she said in an attempt to diffuse the situation. She'd left, hadn't she? Was he cross at her for arguing?

"No, not that. With the Minister there I…the gravity of the situation," Remus tailed off, still walking.

"Will you get to the flipping point?" Tonks said impatiently. Merlin, he could be dramatic.

Remus glanced up at her and answered with another question; "Will you forgive me for what I'm about to say?"

"Remus-"

"Will you?" he demanded. He'd stopped pacing and was holding onto her shoulder. His face was frightened and urgent. Tonks nodded.

"What if we got rid of it?" he said.

The words thudded around them for several long seconds.

"Now," Tonks replied in a drawl, "Or shall we wait until it's born and then wring its neck?"

"Dora-" he tried to say, but she cut him off.

"Don't you want it? It's our baby". She felt like he'd reached into her body and crumpled her insides. He didn't want the child, didn't want this family, didn't want her.

"Of course I want it. But sensibly, practically-"

"Sensibly, it's my kid and I'll love it no matter what," Tonks replied coldly. It was that simple. Remus was always overcomplicating things.

"Even if it's a werewolf?"

"It's a proven fact that I love werewolves," she deadpanned.

Remus didn't raise a smile. "Transformations," he said carefully, "Are worse in children. More painful and bewildering. We can't risk doing that to a baby. A  _baby,_ Tonks,  _our_ baby. It isn't fair on  _our baby,"_

"You could help it," Tonks pointed out.

Her husband laughed without humour. "There is no help,"

"That's not true and you know it,"

"We can hardly afford Wolfsbane, and the way things are going it's going to become harder to come by, and even-"

"Stop it," Tonks retorted, "Just stop it. Will you let yourself be happy for five bloody minutes before jumping to the worst possible conclusion. You don't know that it's going to be a werewolf,"

"But I know that there's a chance it could be. It's better off dead than living as that,"

There was a pause. Again his words thudded around the kitchen like lumps of lead.

"You don't mean that," Tonks said quietly.

Silence again. Then- "No, I suppose I don't. But what about you? What if it transforms inside you?"

"You've read too many horror stories," Tonks said drily.

"This isn't a joke, Dora,"

"No it bloody well isn't. I'm having this baby. Alright?" she snapped, "Money or no money, war or no war, werewolf or no werewolf". She glared at him.

Slowly, Remus nodded. Tonks risked touching his hand and said in a softer voice, "We'll work it out, I promise. Mum and Dad will help with money, Molly'll be desperate to give us her kids' cast-offs, Hagrid can babysit". Remus forced a half-smile, which Tonks reckoned was better than nothing. She reached up to stoke his cheek and continued, "And its Dad won't be half bad either".

She knew that once he'd got this panicking out of his system he was going to be wonderful. Patient and tender and wise. Merlin, she loved him. Tonks smiled, squeezed Remus' hand, and said briskly, "Well, now we've got that sorted, while we're home we might as well have an early night before the wedding, eh?"

"'lright," he mumbled, not meeting her eye.

"Come on then, lovely boy, let's get to bed,"

Remus nodded and followed his wife into their bedroom. He changed into his pyjamas, folded his clothes neatly on the chair, climbed into bed beside her and kissed her goodnight. But when Tonks turned out the light he rolled onto his side, facing away from her. The clock ticked round and he lay awake with his back to his wife, and his eyes stared at the wall.


	3. Pyjamas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the camp that headcannons these two characters as being in a relationship during OotP. In my versions it's a few weeks in the Spring/Summer towards the end of the book. So this chapter is set in that time period. I hope you enjoy.

Remus Lupin loves his girlfriend. But he also loves a quiet half-hour catching up with the  _London Wizarding Journal._ It's Sunday morning and he's on sofa at home (an ugly, threadbare thing. Remus doesn't know how many people have owned it before him) flicking through the newspaper. Thankfully the  _Journal_ is anti-Ministry, but it keeps it quiet. These days the articles are more academic than political. Remus is reading an editorial about goblin mines when there's a crash and a yelp of "Bugger!". Tonks is awake, then. Usually she's up much earlier than he is, but she's been on Order night duty all week. There's a series of thuds which is her coming down the stairs and then she pads into the living room.

"Morning, gorgeous," she says.

"Hello," Remus replies, keeping his eyes on his newspaper as he turns the page.

Tonks yawns, then notices: "Cool, you got  _Magikyan,"_

"What?"

She picks up a magazine and holds it up to him.

"Oh, it came free with the newspaper," Remus shrugs.

"You have your uses," she grins, and plops herself onto the sofa, feet in his lap.

"Dare I ask what it is?" Remus inquires, glancing up at her. Her hair's turned scarlet in the night and she's wearing his shirt from yesterday over her pyjama shorts. Flecks of ink dapple her right hand and there are a couple of bruises on her shins. She's bleary-eyed and rumbled and she looks so soft. She smells like a delicious cocktail of herself and him and sex and sleep. He can see the outline of her nipple against the breast pocket of his shirt. Remus' stomach growls, and it's nothing to do with not having had breakfast yet.

"It's a druid magazine,"

He narrows his eyes. "You're not a druid,"

"Druids are the best producers of folk- indie,"

"...Music?"

Tonks swats him on the head with the magazine. "Yeah, you numpty. They look pretty cool, don't you reckon?"

She holds up a picture of a woman wearing a huge green dress, long black hair extensions and blue paint smeared over her face and arms.

"Umm, yeah. Really cool," Remus nods, flummoxed. His lack of knowledge about "anything that happened after the 1930s" is one of Tonks' favourite things to tease him about. Her love of "that showboating tuneless racket" music is one of Remus'. Tonks frequently asks him how Sirius turned out so cool while he's such a grandad.

"Think it'd be a good look for you," Tonks notes.

"Hmm, I don't think blue's my colour. Maybe purple,"

"Orange,"

"Yellow,"

"Pink,"

Of course she'd say pink. "Is this what it's like being you?" Remus asks, "Thinking of different colours to turn yourself?". He used to be wary of asking her about being a Metamorphmagus. After all, he's used to endless unwelcome questions about his own transformations. But Tonks would talk about morphing all day if she could, and she relishes showing off with it. Remus' favourite thing is that she uses it for fun. Hermione Granger is nearly seventeen, she's the cleverest teenager Remus has ever met, she's the serious and stern one of the kids' little family- but Tonks' pig nose gets her giggling like a little girl. He loves that Tonks can make people happy with something so simple and silly. Come to think of it  _he's_  often been the Hermione of his friends, but joking is so easy with Tonks. She has turned everything he thought he knew on its head.

"Pretty much, yeah. Choose one for me now?" she asks.

"Grey,"

_"Boring,"_

"You'll match me," he points out.

"Your hair's not grey, Remus," Tonks answers defensively, "It's brown,"

"That's very kind of you," he says, patting her knee.

"I mean it. But when you _do_  go grey I'll be  _totally_  digging the silver fox look". She screws her face up and the red fades out of her hair, leaving it a dull silvery colour. Then it grows upwards, curling into an old-lady perm.

"How's that?" she asks.

"Beautiful," Remus grins.

"Yeah, I've heard all blokes dream of an old lady sitting on their sofa wearing their shirt,"

"Teenage fantasy  _totally_ realised," he jokes, exaggerating the 'totally' to mimic her. Tonks jabs him in the ribs with her foot.

"Do you have anything for breakfast?" she asks.

"Umm….bread. Maybe some raisins too?"

"How have you not  _starved_  to death by now?"

"No, I'm kidding you. There's eggs in the fridge and a box of cereal in the cupboard,"

Tonks' reply is gets lost in another yawn, and she stretches as she gets to her feet. Remus cocks his head to watch her, admiring how arch of her back leads into her neck, and down to the roundness of her breasts. He had forgotten, is his long periods of solitude, the plush physicality of women. The mingling of hot breath, the friction of hips on hips, the sensation of burrowing his face into- well, anyway. Remus fumbles with the newspaper to distract himself.

"Do you have orange juice?" Tonks calls as she walks into the kitchen.

"Err…no,"

"What do you drink at breakfast, then?"

"Water,"

Tonks leans out of the kitchen to goggle at him. "Remus, are you a monk?"

The Sirius in his head drawls,  _a monk wouldn't have done what I did with you last night,_ but Remus shrugs and says, "There's no point buying anything to drink that isn't Butterbeer or wine. Or hot chocolate. Although now I think about it," he remembers, "James had a phase of pouring Butterbeer on his cereal,"

"How did that work out for him?"

"Alright, actually. I tried it myself a few times and it wasn't too bad. He might have been on to something,"

He likes telling her about James and rest of the Marauders when they were young. Remus talks to Sirius about them sometimes but the years of guilt, anger and betrayal have battered both their memories. Whereas with Tonks it's just sharing anecdotes about a bunch of silly boys. It feels lighter.

"You're bonkers," she tells him.

"Brave words coming from you," he says, and clicks his tongue (then catches himself- since when was he the sort of man who clicked his tongue? The answer is, of course, since her).

Tonks starts to retort but her words are interrupted by a clatter, which Remus takes to mean that she's attempting to make breakfast. Then there's a clang followed by a mutter of, "Dammit".

Remus smiles to himself, exasperatedly, affectionately, and turns back to his newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. If you have a spare moment it'd be great to have feedback. Thanks a lot.


	4. Shopworn Carpet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone whose read, kudosed and bookmarked so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

It was rude to apparate into somebody's bedroom. Tonks did it anyway. CRACK- and she was standing on the shopworn carpet in Remus' tiny, tidy bedroom. A black suitcase (not his usual initialed one, Tonks noted) was open on the bed, half-filled with clothes. Remus was standing behind it, and wheeled round as Tonks appeared.

"Is it true?" she demanded before he could have the first word.

"Tonks, what are y-"

"Tell me if it's true! That you're going away,"

"Yes," his voice was oddly cool and his eyes didn't meet hers, "It's true,"

"To live with werewolves," Tonks probed. He nodded again. Tonks heard herself moan.

"Who told you?" Remus asked.

"Kingsley, just now. He says you've offered to spy on them for Dumbledore,"

"Dumbledore's concerned that Voldemort has recruited Greyback, and that might lead to a Death Eater pack. The Ministry's laws haven't helped keep the werewolves onside," Remus explained. His tone was almost indifferent. Tonks knew she sounded hysterical in comparison but she didn't care. How could he be leaving, and leaving for _there_  and  _them?_ How could he be  _folding his shirts_  while telling her this with such finality?

"Where are you going?" she pressed.

"North. Greyback leads a pack just outside Keswick,"

"And you've rung up the werewolf hotline, have you? Dumbledore's set you up with a penpal and now you're going for tea?"

"Dor- Tonks," he whispered, "I think you should go,"

"No. Tell me where exactly you're going and what you're doing. Dumbledore's not sending you on your own, is he?"

"I won't be alone, I'll be with them,"

"'Them' being Death Eater werewolves?"

"I'll be alright. They're like me, remember,"

Tonks leapt over the bed and yanked his collar, "You. Are nothing like them," she hissed. May-Eye had told her how Greyback relishes the full moon, sneaks into cottages to bite the children, or kill them if he fancies it. Young women are his other favourite, and after he's finished amusing himself with them they're usually too bruised and shaken to realise that they've been bitten as well. Greyback hates wizards and believes that werewolves can one day take over, although now it seems he's willing to compromise on authority if Voldemort does the legwork. How could Remus; sweet, unassuming Remus, be anything like him? Ginny's told her how he went out of his way to help Harry and be kind to Ginny and Neville during the year he taught at Hogwarts. He dreads the full moon, he bears no grudge against Snape for revealing his secret to the school, he was  _so_  gentle when he and Tonks made love, he risks his security every day being part of the Order. Greyback is the animal and Remus is the man, even if they both transform every month.

"Merlin," she breathed, hands loosening on his shirt as a thought hit her, "He bit you". He'd told her about it once, before they were together. They'd been sitting on the back porch at Grimmauld Place and Remus had explained how his father offended Greyback and what had happened after. His voice had been steady with no hint of trauma.

"He'll kill you," Tonks choked out.

"Don't be overdramatic. It was thirty years ago, he won't remember. Greyback's bitten countless children since then and I doubt he keeps a record. Anyway, I'll be assuming a fake identity". Remus' voice was dismissive, almost scoffing.

"It'll all be fine then," she snarled.

"And if he does recognise me I imagine he'll be proud, he'll welcome me as his prodigal son,"

"Do you hate him?" Tonks heard herself ask.

"More than anybody on this Earth," he breathed. He paused, then asked, "Will you go now, please?"

"Tell me when you're leaving,"

"Friday morning,"

"I suppose you won't be writing,"

"Only to Dumbledore,"

"Right". She didn't ask when he was expecting to be back. Tonks prepared herself to say goodbye and disapparate, but before she could she heard herself blurt, "Is this about us?"

"I might be able to send word to Kingsley sometimes, I don't kn-" Remus continued quickly, as if she'd interrupted him.

Tonks eyeballed him. "Answer the question," she demanded darkly.

He fixed his gaze to a spot a foot above her head. "I don't know,"

"Liar,"

"Dumbledore needs a-"

"You're running away from us," Tonks accused, "What, you hope you'll forget about me? That's going to be Greyback's influence on you? Or d'you reckon you're setting me free, buggering off to let me fall in love with Bill or Mundungus or somebody? That's what you hope? Well I  _won't,_  you know. It's you, it's always going to be you,"

She was shaking with rage; she hated his sanctimoniousness, his cowardliness, his I-know-what's-best-for-you-little-girl pomposity. She hated the way he was  _standing there_  in his scruffy trousers and frayed shirt, looking sorry and scared and gorgeous, Merlin he's the most beautiful man on the planet, inside and out, and Tonks hadn't been his close to him for weeks, and before she could think she'd grabbed his collar again and was pulling him in because they  _needed_  to be kissing, she needed-

His hands on her shoulders were firm.

"Dora," he said, finally looking her in the eye as he pushed her back down. His own green-brown pair were pained, "Please don't".

She wanted to melt into his ugly carpet. She wanted to haul Harry's invisibility cloak over herself. She wanted the twins' whole stash of Peruvian Instant Darkness powder to go off. Anything to stop Remus seeing her stupid, blushing face and the tears springing in her eyes.  _Anything_ so she didn't have to see his expression, so dejectedly firm. So regretful and resigned. So sad.

This was bonkers. Her love for this impossible man had driven her mad. Before Tonks could think of anything else she realised that Remus' hands were still on her shoulders and suddenly she couldn't bear for him to be touching her for a moment longer. She shook him off roughly and backed away. She had to get out of there before she humiliated herself again, before she tortured them both further. He was going to make her miserable by going away but this was making things worse. She should have left when he'd asked her to, she should never have come at all.  _He'd_ split up with  _her_ weeks ago so why did she think she had any right to-

Thump.

In her haste to get away from him, Tonks tripped over the bed's leg and fell sprawling onto the floor. Remus didn't move to help her up. She lay there for a moment looking at his forlorn figure which was about to become so much more lost and lonely. Merlin, she loved him. The feeling suffocated her for a moment, and then Tonks had scrambled to her feet, grabbed her wand and stared at him as she whispered, "Expecto patronum,"

The flicker of insane love was the only reason she could summon it properly. A silver mist spurted from the end of Tonks' wand, floated shapelessly in mid-air for a moment, then morphed into its animal shape. She closed her eyes and disapparated.

Remus knew what the patronus was before it had fully formed. He'd seen his own translucent silver version of the same animal many times. He buried his head in his hands, as the silver wolf ambled slowly towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. This chapter was a bit of a labour of love and I’m not sure that the tenses were always correct. Feedback is appreciated, so if you have a moment please drop me a comment. Have a fab Friday.


	5. The Mason's Arms

These days it was unusual for a member of the Order of the Phoenix  _not_ to be round at the Burrow for tea. Molly enjoyed having extra visitors to fuss over, and it was good for everybody to have seen each other to discuss developments and ensure they were all safe. If anybody hadn't been for a couple of weeks Molly would send an owl to check how they were and invite them over. Kingsley would reply to say he was pre-occupied with other matters but thanks for the invite and Mad-Eye would express the same sentiment is much fewer and less delicate words. Others, however, would accept the invitation and tell Molly not to go to too much trouble, which she would anyway. On this particular occasion, Remus Lupin was the guest at the dining room table. Fred and George had popped in to pick up Charlie's old cauldron and their mother had inevitably persuaded them to stay for pudding. They flung questions and jokes at each other, their parents and Lupin as they wolfed down their lemon curd tart, but Remus could only muster vague answers and weak smiles in response. This did not escape Mrs Weasley's notice.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked eventually.

"Yes, fine, excellent. Thanks Molly," Remus replied, hating how forced his voice sounded. Then he blurted unexpectedly, "Arthur, would you like to go to the village pub later?"

Arthur looked up from his bowl, surprised. "The Mason's Arms? Err, yes. Alright then. I should have some Muggle money somewhere,"

"I do," said Remus.

Everybody glanced at him with confused expressions. "It's, ah, an old habit. When I struggled to find work in our world I would live among Muggles. I did odd jobs- gardening, cleaning, helping on buildings sites. Just a few weeks at a time in one place, I'd leave before the full moon. I still like to keep Muggle money on me, in case- well. It's an old habit," he repeated.

An awkward silence followed and everybody stared down at their lemon tart.

"Well, we'll head down after pudding, shall we?" Arthur said bracingly.

"Yes. I'd be grateful for that, Arthur". Remus cringed again at the stiffness in his voice.

The twins must have Lupin's discomfort, because one of them changed the subject by saying loudly, "So Mum, you should have  _seen_ this bloke who came into the shop the other day…".

* * *

It was raining outside by the time Arthur and Lupin arrived at the Mason. Arthur swung his cloak off and hung it on the back of his chair.

"Two beers, please," he chirped at the barman, proudly omitting the 'butter', "Now, Remus you'll have to give me a hand with the money,"

"I'll get it," Remus insisted, reaching into his jacket pocket.

"No, you're our guest. And you know I like a chance to test my Muggle maths". Arthur took out his own wallet and began searching through it, "Now, the paper is more than the coins. That's always interested me; you'd think it'd be the other way around. Ah, so if I give you a  _tenner,"_ he said impressively, "That should be enough?"

The barman was perplexed at Arthur's running commentary but he took the note and handed Mr Weasley his change. Arthur managed not to stare at the strange coins too long before stuffing them in his wallet. Remus drummed his fingers on the bar while the barman pulled the tap down to pour them both a beer and then put both on the table in front of them.

"Thanks," said Arthur. He raised his glass to Remus, "Cheers,"

Remus tipped his head and they clinked glasses. Arthur took a sip, swallowed hard and tried to wince too hard- Muggle beer was much tarter than wizard butterbeer. Remus noticed and laughed.

"It takes some getting used to," he smiled.

"Always takes me by surprise how bitter and bubbly it is," Arthur replied, "Ours is smoother isn't it?"

"I prefer the Muggle type, I had it a lot when I lived amongst them," Lupin shrugged, "Or perhaps I'm used to the bitterness,"

Arthur wanted to ask him more about living with Muggles, but resisted the temptation. After a few seconds of empty silence, Remus asked in a tone which suggested he had been carefully planning what to say, "Arthur, I was wondering if, as a friend, you might offer me some wisdom,"

Arthur wasn't surprised. He'd suspected that there was a reason for this outing and he told Lupin so. "Go on," he added.

Lupin got straight to the point. "You're aware that Tonks and I were briefly in a relationship last year,"

Ah. So that's what it was about. Molly had been very keen on the two of them despite Arthur's best efforts to keep her out of the way. He wasn't sure what happened between them and had thought it best to avoid the topic, although everybody had been concerned by Tonks' lank hair and dejected manner.

My Weasley nodded and Lupin continued, "I ended it in shortly after Sirius died. Not because I was unhappy with her, quite the opposite, but for her sake. I'm more than a decade older, I can rarely find work, I have an affliction which is hardly a secret and would have made her an outcast sooner or later, not to mention being terribly dangerous to her. It was for the best,"

"But," prompted Arthur.

"Well, Tonks was hardly pleased about it. I tried to keep my distance- that's one of the reasons I agreed to spy on Greyback. But with that avenue exhausted and things being how they are now, avoiding her has become rather more difficult,"

"She's not one to go quietly, is she?"

Lupin laughed, but it faded quickly and when he spoke his voice was solemn. "She wants to marry me,"

Mr Weasley put his glass down. "Ah".

"It's mad, isn't it? Surely it's mad, Arthur, but I don't know what to tell her, I've been through all my reasons again and again and she says she doesn't care," Lupin blurted. Arthur had never heard him say so many words so quickly, "And then, well, what if she's r _ight?_ What if it shouldn't matter and we should," he could barely get the final words out, "be together,"

A pause greeted these words while Arthur digested them. "Do you love her?" he asked.

"Yes. But that's not enough, is it?" Remus asked, wincing as if in pain, " _Is_ it, Arthur, I don't know, I don't know what I'm doing here, it's all new to me. I only want to do the right thing,"

_He's out of his depth,_ Arthur mused to himself,  _poor boy can't have much experience of this._ He vaguely remembers Sirius sprawled on the table at Grimmauld Place last year, teasing Lupin about a girl they'd been at school with. And of course there were the rumours about Sirius himself and Remus. Arthur didn't wish to know any more about that but if anything had happened between them it must have started when they were teenagers. He supposed that Lupin might have had a girlfriend (or boyfriend) or two since, but Arthur doubted he'd been in love before. Arthur well remembered the all-consuming exhaustiveness of first love. But with Molly it had been easy and fun, even in the middle of a war. They were seventeen and excited. The man sitting next to Arthur in the throes of first love was twice as old and had lived and lost and been lonelier than Arthur Weasley could have imagined at seventeen.

Arthur considered what to say next, and eventually settled on telling Remus: "My oldest son is engaged to a woman he's been with less than a year, and who his mother struggles to hide her dislike for". They both laughed sheepishly, "He's seven years older than her, too. I don't need to tell you that we're far from a wealthy family, and it could hardly but a worse time for a wedding. But he loves her, and she seems to love him. She's a nice enough girl and she makes him happy. I can't say it's worked out exactly how I'd want it for him, but that's life and that's certainly the way of the world as it stands for the next few months". Molly was being dramatic about it as always, but Arthur reckoned that Bill and Fleur had made their minds up so it was his job to support them.

"You're very collected about it," Lupin noted.

"I understand them. Molly and I had a short engagement and a wartime wedding," Arthur pointed out with a shrug.

"She says that's different to Bill and Fleur because you were made for each other,"

Arthur rolled his eyes affectionately. "Remus, most young couples believe themselves to be the exception to the rule because they're made for each other,"

"I can't imagine anybody less made for Tonks than me," Lupin sighed.  _That's rubbish,_ thought Arthur, glancing at him gazing miserably into his beer glass. Admittedly they weren't the most obvious match in the world, but they were both loyal, clever and brave. They both knew what it was like to be different. They were like Arthur and Molly in some respects- she was hot-headed and outgoing where he was more ponderous and reserved.

"You're too hard on yourself," Arthur told Remus.

"No, I'm a realist. What can I give her? I've no money, no house- I've only got a job because of Voldemort. Our marriage would be an embarrassment to her. One day she's going to realise that so it's better I spare us both from that humiliation and pain. She's too young to understand at the moment,"

"She's not that young; she was at school with my oldest boys. Charlie remembers her from Herbology. They grew up during the last years of the war, when things were at their worst. They remember what it was like,"

"They were children," scoffed Lupin.

"Harry's still a child and he's been battling You-Know-Who for years,"

Remus put his pint down on the bar and looked Mr Weasley straight in the eye. "You think I should marry her, don't you?"

"Yes". Arthur didn't hesitate to give this answer and he could tell that Lupin hadn't expected him to be so direct. "You'll regret it if you don't," Arthur continued. Maybe marriage is a bit soon but they could at least give their relationship another go.

"I'll regret it if I  _do_. I know I will. Perhaps if it was just my age and my money it could be plausible. It is what I am that makes it impossible,"

Arthur considered pointing out that what Remus was, was a gentle, courageous, kind man, but he knew that this was beside the point. "Tonks knows what you are and she accepts it as we all do,"

"There's a difference between accepting it and being married to it. My transformations were difficult enough for my parents to manage when I was a child. Imagine what it will be like for her now? I can't afford Wolfsbane regularly, so every full moon I'd run the risk of-" he cut himself off abruptly, "It would incredibly dangerous and selfish were I to agree to this madness. If I love her I then should spare her this embarrassing affair. She'll look back on it as a brief childish infatuation born out of panic and fear. If I go through with it it'll be a grave mistake which damned her to life with a man who could kill her once a month". Lupin spoke firmly as if he had thought about this many times before which, Arthur supposed, he probably had.

"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?" he responded. Lupin seemed determined and Arthur wasn't going to do a Molly and try to force them to sort it out.

Remus looked dejectedly into his pint glass. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes. When he spoke his voice was pained. "She's so alive, Arthur. She makes me feel so alive,"

There it was, the agony.  _Poor boy's torturing himself telling himself he shouldn't have her,_ Arthur thought. He put a hand on Lupin's back.

"I know. I know," he said.  _How strange_.  _Remus reckons Tonks and Bill are the rest are so young, but here I am comforting him like he's my son._ Perhaps they were all too young for this. "Everything's going to be alright, Remus,"

Lupin lifted his head and sighed, "No, it probably won't be. Not for a long time at least,"

Arthur was used to Lupin's pessimism, but he had to admit that Remus had a point. He changed the subject, "Heard from Harry recently?"

"No. He's got a lot of his plate at the moment without worrying about me," Remus shrugged, "He wants to know about my excursion to the werewolf pack but I don't think it's in his best interests to hear too much about it,"

Arthur didn't point out that Lupin had hardly told anybody what had happened during his stay with the werewolves. From the little information he had gathered he knew that it had been very draining and difficult, and Lupin's progress had been negligible. Remus had returned home a few weeks ago looking looked even more grey and exhausted than ever.

"Ron alright?" Lupin asked.

"Seems to be, he's recovered from the nasty poisoning incident".  _Odd that talking about my son being poisoned is a relief._

"That's good,"

"Well, I think he's cross that he's back in lessons. Reckons NEWT work is twice as hard as OWL,"

"He's not wrong,"

"He spends most of his letters telling me about his homework, his Quidditch practice, what Hermione's done to annoy him this week". Arthur rolled his eyes and smiled, "I suspect he doesn't tell us half of what the three of them are  _actually_  up to,"

Lupin nodded thoughtfully. Arthur risked returning to the subject at hand. "Remus, you asked for my advice, and my advice is you should let yourself be happy with the woman you're in love with. Tonks is an adult, and an intelligent one at that. She knows her own mind. Listen to her,"

He patted Lupin on the back again. Remus nodded thoughtfully and took a long sip of his beer. "Thank you, Arthur," he said at last, "I'll keep that in mind,"

"Any time, Remus. I mean that. Now," he said, pulling out his wallet again, "I'll get the next round. I want to see if I can pay with coins this time…".


	6. Rockwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: M-rated. Sex, strong language and mentions of violence, sexual harassment, r*pe.

Hardly anything about falling in love with a younger woman had occurred to Remus before it happened. One of those things was how much she’d want sex. Turns out she wants it quite a lot. It’s exhausting.

It also makes him feel utterly sickened.

Not her. Never her. She’s beautiful from head to foot. What sickens him is the _act_ of it, entering her, moving on top of her and inside her, mingled breath and sticky sweat and that other kind of stickiness, inside her and on her legs and her stomach and the sheets. It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting. He’s _making her_ disgusting; tainting her. Nobody’s going to want her when they find out who or, more specifically, _what_ has been in her bed. She can’t catch lycanthropy off him that way of course, but every time he contaminates her further with the reputation of what he is. It’s vile. Even when she’s kissing and cuddling him, sighing his name and murmuring breathless enticements into his ear, nibbling his face and raking her hands through his hair- even then he feels as if he’s violating her. Dirtying her. It doesn’t help that the wolf, of course, wants to fuck everything. Its huge cock dangles between its legs ready to get hard at a feel of the wind, the sight of a sheep, the sound of a woman’s laugh. The wolf prowls for things to bite and it prowls for things to jam its horrible huge wolf-cock into. There’s a reason they call it bloodlust. Once, the wolf rubbed itself off against a fallen tree. Remus had woken on the forest floor, grazes all down his chest and stomach and his genitals bleeding. He’d worked out what had happened and it would have been funny if it hadn’t been so appalling. He can’t think about what the wolf would do to Tonks.

One day, probably soon, Tonks will see sense and end things with him. Remus is so prepared for that conversation that it barely bothers him anymore. What bothers him is that she is finished with him she’ll meet a nice boy, probably from the Ministry, and fall in love with him. And that boy, will inevitably, find out. People always find out. He’ll leave her, angrily, and break her heart. And then the whispers will start.

“Were-bitch,”

“Wolf-whore,”

“When are the mongrel pups due?”

Men will slobber and grope her in the street. Why wouldn’t she want that, she’ll have anybody anytime, the girl’s so gagging for it that she fucked a werewolf. Women will stare and snigger at her and howl when she passes by. The best she can hope for is that people will think she is mad for doing what she did. The worst she can expect is that people will think she is _worse_ than a werewolf. Werewolves don’t choose to be bitten, but she chose to sleep with him, to be infected with the reputation. Nobody is going to want her, and it will all be his fault.

There’s no way of telling her all this, of course. Remus has tried to give her plenty of reasons why this whole thing is insane and will only serve to hurt her in the long-run, but Tonks doesn’t want to hear. She insists that her mind’s made up and that she knows what she’s doing and that (worst of all) she loves him. So what choice does he have when she looks at him with those mischievous eyes, puts his hands on her breasts, leads him upstairs and murmurs, “Make love to me, Remus”? Sometimes he mutters that he’s too tired and Tonks laughs, ruffles his hair, says, “Alright-y, old man” and then waits a couple of days before trying again. He ends up saying yes eventually- there’s no way out. Just like one day, when she has forgotten what she ever saw in him, there will be no way out for her from the lonely life that his body has damned her to.

Hardly anything about falling in love with a younger woman had occurred to Remus before it happened. One of those things is that he should never have let it happen at all.

 


	7. Wedding Morning

“Blimey, you scrub up alright,”

The sound of the voice makes Remus jump and dive for his wand.

“Calm down, it’s only me,” Tonks scoffs.

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” he mumbles. He shoves his wand into his pocket and goes back to fiddling with his shirt collar.

“You look fab,” she says admiringly, “Proper fit,”

She comes over and hugs him from behind, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and looping her arms around his stomach. He likes it when she does that; keeping him safe.

“How’re you feeling?” Tonks asks.

“Umm…hmmf,” he grunts.

“That good, eh?”

“Bit nervous,” Remus admits.

“You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,”

Dora stamps a kiss on his shoulder, then lets him go and hurls herself onto his bed. “I know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but I’m not in my dress and anyway, who cares about luck?”

She grins at him and Remus forces a smile back. “How’s your Mum doing?” he asks.

“Driving me up the wall, as predicted,” Tonks huffs, then adopts a mimicking tone; “‘Are you sure about those shoes, Nymphadora?’, ‘You can’t have blue hair at your wedding, Nymphadora’, ‘You cousin Harriet would have made _such_ a pretty bridesmaid, Nymphadora’. Like Mum can talk, she _eloped,”_

“Yes, at least your parents are going to _be here_ to watch you marry a werewolf,” Remus notes.

Tonks’ face darkens. “Hey,” she barks, abruptly stern, “None of that today. We agreed we were having none of that today,”

“Right. Sorry,” Remus murmurs.

“The only W words today are wedding, wife and will-you-give-me-more-cake,”

“And wine,” he chips in. He looks at her through the mirror, sprawled happily on her back on the duvet. He loves how at home she is everywhere. Remus constantly feels gangly and boxed in, whereas whatever room Dora’s in she’ll bounce through the door and kick her feet up on the furniture.

“And wine,” she agrees, then changes the subject, “Where d’you get the new whistle from, anyway?”

“Grimmauld Place,”

“It’s _Sirius_ ’?”

“Yes. Couldn’t get married in one of my tatty old ones, could I?” Remus points out.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Tonks says softly. The tatty suits are him.

“Well, I thought I should make an effort and wearing my dead best friend’s clothes seemed appropriate,”

“Sirius’ penchant for tight trousers is _really_ working for you,” she drawls, eyeing his arse. Remus coughs, and clears his throat distractedly. That’s always amused Tonks- he’s so collected and unflappable, but tell him he looks even a tiny bit sexy and he gets flustered.

“You _have_ got a wedding dress, haven’t you?” he jokes, “Otherwise I’m going to be very overdressed for this,”

“I’m waiting ‘til the last minute before I put it on. Don’t wanna spill anything, Molly would murder me,” Tonks explains. Mrs Weasley had sewed her wedding dress and had acted like she was sewing the Bayeux Tapestry.

“And woe betide anybody who incurs the wrath of Molly Weasley,” Remus notes.

“I think she’s treating this as practise for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. All the stress and preparation without actually coming,”

“I’m going to make absolutely no comment about if we dodged a curse on that one,” says Remus. He suspects that Dora would have liked a big wedding with dancing, splendour and all their friends, but Remus had talked her into this understated affair. It’s better like this- quick, quiet, out of the way. Less of a crowd to get nervous in front of, fewer disapproving eyes on them (on him), less chance of the Ministry turning up. They’re safe here, and despite his dry observations about dead man’s suits and werewolves, Remus is looking forward to it. How could he not be? He’s getting _married._ Marriage had never, _ever_ been on his radar until this brash, puckish Auror stumbled into his world. Remus gazes at her fondly through the mirror. He manages a few moments of unnoticed observation before Tonks’ Plain-Site-Hiding training kicks in and she glances up.

“What are you looking at? Have I got something on my face?”

Remus steps across the room, kneels down, takes her face in his hands and is kisses her hard. Dora returns it hungrily (she always does that- never hesitates or seems surprised. She _always_ wants his touch and his kisses), draping her arms around his neck and pressing herself close against him. Tonks grins against his mouth- he loves feeling her smile like that. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her.

“That was nice,” she sighs dreamily when he pulls away.

“I’m so happy I’m marrying you,” Remus breathes.

“Me too,”

Tonks is thrilled to hear Remus say that considering he’s been so jittery about this all. She presses another kiss to his mouth. “We’re going to be amazing,”

He beams at her, gets to his feet and turns back to the mirror to fix his tie. Tonks watches a few moments; the concentration in his face, his gentle hands, how different his figure looks in Sirius’ suit. She suspects that Remus feels guilty about insisting on a tiny wedding in the middle of nowhere, but Tonks would be happy to marry him right now in this room with nobody watching. The bells and whistles would have been nice, but all she needs is him.

“Will your Mum be wondering where you’ve got to?” Remus says a last.

“Let her wonder,” Tonks replies with an eye-roll.

“Listen, I’d love to spend all morning here with you, but it’s her daughter’s wedding day. Humour her,”

Tonks groans, but gets to her feet. “I s’pose Dad’s being alright,” she concedes, “He said he was going to come up and have a Firewhiskey with you in a bit,”

“That’s good of him,” Remus nods. Andromeda and Ted have made it clear that they don’t much approve of their daughter’s choice of husband, but they seem to have accepted it. They’re making an effort, which Remus reckons is the best he could hope for.

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you up there,” Tonks says, and it doesn’t escape Remus’ notice that _she_ sounds nervous this time, “Looking forward to it,”

She gives him a swift, tight hug, squeezes his bum (he splutters embarrassedly) and pecks the corner of his mouth before elbowing the door open.

“Yep,” nods Remus as Tonks exits the room, “I can’t wait”.


	8. Picture Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re reading this, thanks so much for clicking on this story. Recommended listening for this chapter: Photograph by Ed Sheeran. Hope you enjoy.

If Lupin and Tonks had one thing, it was differing sleeping patterns. She, used to early starts at the Ministry, counted anything after seven o'clock as a lie-in. He, on the other hand, slept late most mornings. He was a voracious late-night reader, seldom got to sleep easily and often woke up in the night. He'd never had consistent employment so had rarely had the need to wake up early. (He'd told her once that he was late to lessons every day the first week he taught at Hogwarts because he wasn't used to having to be anywhere for nine o'clock). In the days before the full moon he woke up even more during the night and slept even later in the mornings.

It was Sunday, two days to go before the moon. Tonks had never paid any attention to the phases of the moon before, but in the last few months it had become a countdown in her head. Kingsley brought it up at the end of Order meetings- "Remus, will you be available that day?" and Tonks was astonished at how Remus replied every time with such dignity. Sirius would loiter on the stairs fidgeting as he waited for the next delivery of Wolfsbane ("It's the only thing I can do to help anybody," he snapped). Hestia fussed over Remus until Sirius told her to shut it. Tonks tried to avoid joining in on the fuss but it was difficult not to when her boyfriend suddenly turned ashen or started muttering about back pain and faintness. There was always that countdown, and now they were together it played on her mind constantly. Two days now.

The radio had announced that it was half past nine. Remus was likely to be in bed for the foreseeable future, so Tonks had crept downstairs to investigate his bookshelf. There were books on Defensive Curses, Kappas and Indonesian Carnivorous Plants, a selection of battered Muggle novels, a Bible, and a thick leather-bound album. Intrigued, Tonks pulled it from the shelf and opened it. The first page had two photos stuck in; a wriggling baby, and then the same baby with two men. The bloke on the left was a much younger Remus; his hair was longer with no trace of grey, he wasn't so lean and he was sporting a fluffy moustache that didn't suit him at all. The other man looked like Harry which meant it must be James- Tonks had heard it mentioned countless times that Harry was the spit of his dad. Well, it was certainly true because the man was an older version of Harry, except that his nose was longer and his glasses were square instead of round. Remus had his arm around James' shoulders and they were both smiling, although James' was wider. Tonks had never seen Harry smile like that. Speaking of Harry, he must be the baby. Cute little bugger. James was trying to make him wave to the camera but Harry was squirming too much, so he passed him to Remus, who looked awkward holding the baby. Tonks realised with a jolt that the Remus must have been about the age that she was now. She looked at him again. What was he like? If she met him at that age would she still fancy him? What would he think of her?

A woman appeared on the following page's photos; this must be Harry's mum. Sirius had been right- she was very pretty. Baby Harry was less fidgety in his mother's arms. There was Remus again, lying on the carpet beside Harry building blocks into towers, which Harry was delightedly knocking over. The Remus in the photo looked more comfortable playing on the floor with Harry than he had done holding him, and didn't seem bored with the repetition of rebuilding towers. There was a caption written at the bottom:  _GH 11/6/81._

Tonks turned the page and there was Sirius, leaning on his motorbike. He was wearing black boots, tight leather trousers and a grubby red t-shirt. His long dark hair was tied up in a messy bun. Merlin, he'd been a sexy bastard, hadn't he? James was back in the next photo. He was trying to sit on the motorbike's handlebars while Sirius irritably shooed him off. James kept sniggering and Sirius was looking increasingly annoyed. There was another boy in the picture too, whom Tonks knew must be Peter Pettigrew. The traitor. She hadn't thought much about what the man who betrayed Lily and James would look like, but she knew she hadn't expected this. He was ordinary; short and round and smiley. James and Sirius were ignoring him- Remus had told her that they did that sometimes. It wasn't out of malice, he'd assured her, but simply out of James and Sirius being so wrapped up in each other. That, Remus theorized miserably, was why Peter had allowed himself to be led away.

After a few more Harry pages Tonks got to the Potters' wedding. There they were kissing outside the chapel, cutting their wedding cake, dancing together in the dusk. (Had Remus taken all these pictures? If he had he was a good photographer). Peter and Sirius stuffing their faces at the buffet, James and Remus clinking glasses, Sirius with an arm hooked around Lily, kissing her on the cheek while James rolled his eyes. There were photos of other people there too; friends and relatives (were Harry's grandparents in here somewhere?). After the wedding (well, before, as Tonks had worked out that she was going backwards in time), there were three pages of photos of Remus and Lily. Jumping off a wall together, legs flailing, disappearing onto the other side then climbing back over as Lily leaned across to ruffle Remus' hair. A pair of photos that must have been taken at the same time because they were both holding cameras up to their eyes. Lily flicking through 12"s in a record shop. Remus draped on the sofa with a newspaper (he still sprawled like that now when he was reading). An arty photo of Lily wearing an enormous knitted jumper and stirring a mug of tea. Tonks hadn't realised they'd been such good friends- why hadn't he mentioned it?

Now they were at Hogwarts. These photos must be almost twenty years old, no wonder they were so faded. Peter was climbing a tree. James was messing about with a Snitch, letting it fly away from him before lurching gracefully forwards to grab it back. Shirtless Sirius was brushing his hair while flirting with his reflection in the dormitory mirror. Remus was asleep in an armchair (he was  _so_  cute) while Peter tried to pull a book out from between his arms. James, Sirius and Peter in their animagi form- James' stag was beautiful. Some of the photos had dates and captions, and the boys got younger as the pages went on. Remus was a taller teenager than Tonks had imagined, and surprisingly chubby in the early photos. His curly hair was in an awful bowl-cut style in those pictures, although thankfully by third-year he was wearing it shorter and more like James. His grin was never as wide or wild as the other Marauders'. Like all teenage gangs they must have thought they were exactly on each other's wavelength, Tonks reflected, but in reality it'd be difficult to find four more different boys. Tonks smirked at the photo of Professor McGonagall shouting and shoving her hand out to demand the camera was handed over. Then Sirius was back, leaning out of his dormitory window smoking. Remus carrying a wobbling James on his shoulders (James was in shorts and a t-shirt but Remus was wearing his Hogwarts uniform. He looked more comfortable in his school robes than he done wearing a suit at the Potters' wedding). Scrawny James in Quidditch gear hanging upside-down from his broomstick. Peter covered in grass as he rolled down the hill by the lake.

After the Hogwarts pages Tonks came to a photo of an even younger Remus. He was slumped in a deckchair on the beach wearing a straw hat low over his eyes while idly turning the pages of a newspaper. A caption in childish hand read:  _Porthor 1969._ Tonks smiled; he'd be nine years old and was already acting like an old man. In the next photo Remus' head was thrown back in excitement as he ran out from the sea. Water was dribbling from his fingertips and his brown hair was plastered to his face. He was wearing those high-waisted 60s swimming trunks and on his left arm there was what looked like a Quidditch captain's armband, but Tonks knew it must be covering the wolf bite. Remus' mother was in the next photograph. He talked about her sometimes, although Tonks had never seen a picture of her before. She was sitting in the deckchair licking an ice-cream, and she waved when she saw that she was being photographed. She looked a lot like Remus; curly hair and square jaw and green-brown eyes. Tonks wondered what Mrs Lupin would have made of her- she'd probably have disapproved of her hair, her clothes and her loud music, but hopefully would have approved of her son's girlfriend being an Auror. And she looked like she'd got a sense of humour. The last photo on the page showed Remus and another boy and girl making a sandcastle. The little girl was trying to build a turret, the boy was patting the sides firm, and Remus was sticking flags into the top. He'd explained to her recently that he was sometimes allowed to play with other kids, but only for a couple of hours. Tonks imagined that he built castles with these kids on the beach for an afternoon before his parents led him away, worried that the boy and girl would ask about where he went to school or what was under the armband.

Tonks turned the pages and there Remus was on Christmas Day, kicking a ball in the park,  _Cardiff Cathedral 1966,_ clutching his teddy while drinking a glass of milk. He was rather pallid and roly-poly, and even then his clothes were shabby. There was a navy polo-neck jumper that appeared in photos for three years until the sleeves barely came down to Remus' wrists. But he was usually smiling and it looked like they'd had a reasonably happy family life. The last page's caption was written in adult handwriting:  _Remus' Birthday, March 1963._ He was three. Almost all the pre-Hogwarts photos had been of Remus alone, occasionally with his mother (his dad must have taken the pictures), but these photos were full of dancing toddlers and their parents. He'd had friends- Merlin, she realised, this was before he was bitten. Tonks felt abruptly panicky, like she was back in the moment desperate to beg Lupin Snr not to get involved in the werewolf interrogation. Three-year-old Remus was giggling on the floor surrounded by wrapping paper with his frizzy hair spilling out crazily from his head (why were mothers so weird about their kids' first haircut?) and he  _didn't know._ She had to warn them, but she couldn't warn them. What had all the kids and parents in the photos thought when Remus suddenly started getting ill a couple of years later? Did he miss them when he moved away? He was so little. He must have been so scared.

The mantlepiece clock clanged half past eleven- crikey, she'd spent nearly an hour going through the album. She should probably check if Remus was awake and if he wanted a cup of tea. Tonks flicked back through the album, watching him age (the album stopped when he was twenty-one. Tonks wondered if there was any symbolism in that), then snapped it shut, slid it back onto the shelf between  _As You Like It_ and  _Elixirs, Salves and Liquid Remedies of the 18th Century: Volume 4,_ and headed back upstairs. Remus' house was cramped, crooked and creaky, and the stairs quaked if you ran up them too fast, which Tonks almost always did. She got halfway up before remembering that she was supposed to be being unobtrusive this morning, and tiptoed the rest of the way up to the bedroom.

"Wotcher," she whispered, creeping back in. Remus was curled up under the covers, face half-pressed into the pillow, "You awake?"

He didn't respond. Tonks pattered across to the bed (taking care not to knock anything over) and slipped in behind him. Remus' back felt warm and solid; everything about him was solid even when he was sickly. Tonks leaned over his shoulder to look at his face. It seemed different when he was asleep, although Tonks couldn't explain why. Younger, perhaps? But not as young as the man who had played with baby Harry or the boy who'd carried Peter Pettigrew on his shoulders. Peaceful? But she knew that he rarely slept peacefully. Remus' pyjama t-shirt only half-covered the werewolf bite; the lower teeth-marks were visible from underneath his t-shirt. The bite became more sensitive and inflamed around the full moon and this morning it was an ugly shade of scarlet. Poor bastard. Tonks felt like crying; he was so affable and honourable and all he'd got in return was pain and hardship. Everything had been horribly unfair; the attack, the transformations, not being able to hold down a job or a house, losing all his friends. He had so much to give but the world kept taking. Well, it was up to her to sort things out then, wasn't it? Tonks crooked her neck round to kiss his cheek.

"You'll be okay now," she murmured, "I promise I'll look after you,"

Truth be told, she liked looking after him. Tonks wouldn't have counted herself as a nursing type of person, but caring for him when he was ill was…empowering. It gave her a rare feeling of feminine protectiveness. Sirius insisted on being in charge during the night of the full moon and the morning after, but last month he'd allowed Tonks to take over Remus Recovery Duty once she got home from work in the evening. For months now she'd been desperate to buy him new robes and shoes that weren't falling apart at the sole. She insisted on paying for drinks and dinner as much as she could until Remus got cross with her, and perhaps when their lives weren't so busy and unpredictable she could treat him to theatre tickets and jazz concerts. Because if anybody deserved to be spoiled it was Remus Lupin.

"You're going to be fine, Remus. You're not on your own anymore". He'd got Sirius back, and Harry and the rest of the Order. And he'd got her. "It's all going to be okay,"

Tonks wasn't sure if she was talking to the man in his thirties in bed beside her or the teenager falling asleep over his homework, or the kid on the beach who'd been allowed to play with other children for once, or the toddler at his birthday party before everything went wrong.

She was going to make it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your time. If you want more stories about our favourite nerdy werewolf and his gang, please take a look at my story An Autumn. Thanks.


	9. Wedding Night

_We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest,_

_No wedding day smiles, no walk down the aisle,_

_No flowers, no wedding dress._

_That night we went down to the river,_

_And into the river we'd dive._

-Bruce Springsteen, _The River._

Their wedding night was a disaster. Naturally, it was his fault. He’d made it through the day in one piece. Oh, whose he kidding- it had been wonderful. Remus had been buzzing with excitement and, shockingly, pride, from the minute he woke up that morning. It had been a tiny ceremony, just few family members in attendance, and they’d all looked delighted despite everything. Dora glowed with happiness all day, and for the first time in years Remus felt lucky.

Obviously that didn’t last. They were spending the night in a small in above the pub where they’d had dinner after the ceremony. It was cheap but pleasant, and the gentle lapping of the Loch could be heard from the window. When they’d said goodnight to Tonks’ parents she’d seized Remus’ hand and pulled him giddily into the bedroom. She’d pressed a kiss to his neck before saying, “I’m just going to brush my teeth”.

“Okay,”

But before she did, she took his hands in hers, looked him in the eye and told him, “I am so happy to be married to you”. And she smiled. That changed everything. She’d been beaming all day but now they were alone her smile triggered something in Remus’ brain, and the full horror of what he’d done hit him like a thrown brick. Oh God. Oh God ohGod ohGod ohGodohGod. He’d  _married_ her. Saddled her for life with his illness and instability and impecuniousness. He _knew_ what it was like to go hungry and cold and hide from other people, and now he’d dragged her into that life too. Her impish smile, her shining eyes, her heart and her mind and her clumsiness, her accent and her changing faces, her jokes and her questions and her rebellious streak- all of it would dim and fade. How could he have _done this_ to her?  Remus sank onto the bed, groaning. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then, to his astonishment, began to cry. Tears leaked out of his eyes and wormed their way down his face. Angrily, Remus scrubbed them away with his sleeve. He didn’t cry, he wasn’t supposed to cry. Sirius’ suit was velvet and the tears seeped into the fabric. What a stupid idea to get married in his best friend’s clothes; it was disrespectful to Sirius’ memory and it could only be a bad omen. The whole thing had been powered by fear and grief. Remus was supposed to be better than that, he was supposed to have control. Dora was barely out of school; he should have acted like a teacher, an adult, but instead he’d allowed her to lead him down this path and now look what he’d done.

The bathroom door re-opened and Tonks chirped, “So I was thinking that-“

Remus’ face was in his hands so he didn’t Tonks’ expression drop or how she bolted across the room. But he felt her sit beside him, put her hand gingerly on his arm and wrap her other arm around his shoulders

“Shh. Not tonight. Remus, darling, shh, not now,”. Remus and darling sounded odd together, wrong. How could he be anybody’s darling?

“This was a mistake. What have I done, what have I done to you?” he choked out, voice shaking.

“Made an honest woman of me, that’s what,” she said firmly.

 “I’ll have left you a-“

“Remus, please,” Tonks begged, and as he lifted his face from his hands he saw that her own eyes were damp, “Not tonight. Please not tonight,”

Now she was crying too so as well as ruining her status, her stability and her safety, he’d ruined her wedding night. It was that more than anything which calmed Remus down. This had to stop. He closed his eyes, took four deep breaths, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Dora kept her arm around him, stroked his hair and mumbled that it was going to be alright. Remus tried not to listen because he knew it was a lie.

“There’s my lovely boy,” she smiled, when he’d regained enough composure to look at her. And then, in a delighted whisper, “There’s my husband,”

Remus exhaled a long breath. “I love you,” he said, because he knew she wanted to hear it.

“That’s a relief. This marriage lark would be really awkward if you didn’t,”

He forced himself to laugh and he forced himself to kiss back when Dora pressed her lips to his.

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” she purred, hooking a leg between his. She kissed him softly, then pecked a row of kisses across his jaw and neck, lapped at his Adam’s apple and down to his collar bones. She was sighing against his skin and slipping his jacket off his shoulders, and she kissed him on the mouth again, harder. And Remus hated himself more because this gorgeous girl who adored him was kissing and undressing him, but all he wanted was to push her off and tell her to get herself as far away from him as possible. But it was their wedding night; he could pretend. He’d do whatever she wanted, anything she’d ask-

“Remus?”. She’d pulled away abruptly.

“Hmm?”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,”

“What’s up?”

“Everything’s fine,”

“Are you tired? It’s okay, you just lie down and leave it all to me, eh?”

She patted the mattress and winked. He knew that one day soon she wouldn’t want him like this. She’d be repulsed at the thought that she ever did. And even then she wouldn’t be able to escape; even if she left him (she should) they were married now and she couldn’t outrun his reputation.

“Remus?”

This time he could not summon a smile.

“D’you feel alright?”

“It’s fine, everything’s great,” Remus lied unconvincingly, “Hey, where were we?”

He reached for her again but she wasn’t an idiot. Her shoulders slumped. “You don’t want to, do you?”

“You’re my wife. Of course I want to”. Wife. He hadn’t said it out loud until then. Dora Tonks is his wife. It seemed incomprehensible that this thought could have given him any joy.

“How in the name of Merlin’s boxers did you manage as a spy?” Tonks scoffed, “You’re a dreadful liar,”

He had no idea how to respond to that. She was the only person other than Molly Weasley who could render him speechless. Eventually, he mumbled, “I don’t want to let you down,”

Remus was familiar with the type of pause which followed. It was a pause in which Tonks was restraining herself from snapping at him that he wasn’t letting her down, and was thinking of something kind to say instead and to summon an understanding tone to voice it. Remus had heard a lot of that pause.

“Well then,” she said briskly, “Shall we talk?”

She scooted away from him, kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. She was still wearing her wedding dress. “Are you coming?”

Her tone was impatient and when Remus twisted round to look at her face was hard. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked.

“Of course I don’t mind”. Dora’s voice was too hasty to be convincing, “It’s just sex, Remus. It can wait. This is your wedding night too,”

He wanted to tell her that tonight was supposed to be about _her_.

“Look, we started off just talking, didn’t we? Let’s pretend we’re sitting on the back porch at Grimmauld Place again,”

Remus looked at her, sitting up in bed with her hair the shade of blue she’d insisted on for today, wearing the wedding dress Molly had sewn and giving him that steely look with her Black-glint eyes. She was incredible.

“Alright,” he replied softly. He took Sirius’ shoes off and placed them carefully beside each other at the side of the bed (Tonks rolled her eyes), hung Sirius’ jacket on the back on a chair, and slunk into bed beside her. Tonks shuffled up behind him, wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“What d’you want to talk about?” he asked.

“Dunno. Tell me a story. Didn’t you come on holiday near here when you were a kid?”

“We came in Inverness once. Why my parents thought it would be a pleasant holiday destination I don’t know,”

“Yeah, surely the only place with _worse_ weather than Wales is North Scotland,”

“Wales had beautiful weather, thank you very much,” he said, mock-defensive.

“Right, for one day a year,” she scoffed.

“But what a day it is,” Remus declared. She was right- they were good at talking. Before anything else had happened they’d been two people swapping stories and trying to make one another laugh. That was what he’d first liked about her, wasn’t it, that she’d made him laugh?

“Anyway, so you came on holiday to Inverness and it rained the whole time,”

“Not the whole time. One day it snowed,”

“It _snowed_ on your Summer holiday?” Tonks echoed, “You’re kidding…”

…They were still talking when rays of sunlight crept in through the curtains.


	10. The Letters From Them

 

_Dear Teddy_

_My darling son, I hope you never read this letter. I hope I return from where I am about to go alive and well and able to spend many long years with you. But if this does not happen, please know how very much I love you. You and your exciting, tough, hilarious Mummy have given me more happiness than I knew possible. There are few reasons why I would willingly risk missing out on being your father, enjoying your company, having fun with you, helping you learn, watching you grow into the marvelous man I know you will be and showing you every day how much I love you. But the duty to make the world a better place for you to grow up in is, I think, good enough reason. I am doing this for you. One day I hope you will understand and I beg your forgiveness._

_Know that whatever you choose to do I am proud. I support you and believe in you. And above all I love you. I love you so much, my wonderful son._

_Always,_

_Dad._

_Teddy,_

_I can't write beautifully like Daddy, but I agree with everything he said. I love you I love you. I hope I get to come home to you very soon. If I don't then I'm really sorry. Grandma and Daddy will look after you so be a good boy for them. Well, maybe not too good, they both need keeping on their toes._

_We're pretty sure that you are a Metamorphmagus. You're welcome, kid. Sso I hope you enjoy it and have fun with it. It's nice to be able to make people laugh. You have my permission to use it to get into trouble. I hope you're also like your Dad in some way too, because he's fantastic. And your Grandad. You've got both their names and if you're anything like either of them you're going to be a total knock-out. I should probably tell you some important advice and stuff but my mind's gone blank. Watch out for Wrackspurt. Work hard. Carry Essence of Dittany on you for emergencies/falling over. Be nice to people. De-gnoming is better done manually than with magic._

_You make me really happy. I hope we get more time together. You're the best little guy. I'm so proud of you._

_Love you forever,_

_Mum_

_Xxxxx xxx xxx kisses times a million_

_PLEASE STAY SAFE_

Teddy wanted to have the page framed on his bedroom wall but Granny wouldn't let him.

"It'll lose its meaning then, it'll just be something you see when you wake up," she explained.

"No, it won't," Teddy protested forlornly, but he could tell in Granny's tone that this was an argument she wasn't losing.

"We'll keep it in this drawer here," she announced. She folded the page carefully back in its envelope and shut the envelope inside the drawer.

"Tell me how they wrote it again," Teddy pleaded. He liked stories about his parents going to die.

Granny lifted him onto his bed and sat down beside him. "Your Dad realised he had to go to fight so he got his quill out and wrote you a letter. Then he gave you to your Mum and told her to take you to stay with me so that you'd both be safe. Then your Dad gave you a hug-"

"-a big one," Teddy interrupted.

"The biggest hug ever, because he knew he might not be able to do it again," Granny nodded, "He gave you one huge hug to make up for all the others he couldn't give you,"

"And then Daddy Flooed into the fire,"

"Good lad, that's right. Mummy and you came to me but Mummy wanted to fight. She wanted so much to be with you but she knew she had to help her friends fight the bad people,"

"To make the world better for me," Teddy recited.

"Yes. So she opened Daddy's letter and added her bit. And then she went to Hogwarts to join your Dad,"

"But she gave me a big hug too,"

"Lots of hugs and kisses and love," Andromeda nodded. The reality had been completely different. The reality had been Nymphadora appearing in the fireplace clutching the baby and trembling. It had been her choking out to Andromeda what was going on. It had been her pacing, muttering, chewing her sleeves, squeezing Teddy too tight until Andromeda had taken him off her. It had been Nymphadora tearing open the envelope, reading Remus' letter and snarling, "Bastard. Why's he got to be so bloody poetic?".

_"Don't read what he's written" Andromeda scolds._

_"But I need to add to it," says Nymphadora, "I'm going with him,"_

_Andromeda freezes. "You can't," she says, voice suddenly hoarse. No. No no, she can't go, she won't._

_"Yes I can, and I have to," Nymphadora insists._

_"You don't know what's happening, you could get yourself killed," Andromeda snaps. Silly girl, she's talking nonsense. She's panicked about Remus and it's making her think of daft ideas._

_"So could you, so could any of us, any day. This is it, Mum, this is when we fight back,"_

_"You've fought enough," Andromeda says firmly. She's worked an Auror for four years, part of the Order for three and been nearly killed by Andromeda's sister twice. Nymphadora has played her part._

_"There's no such thing, not until this is over. All my friends are there, my husband-"_

_"What about your_ son? _He's barely four weeks old, he needs you,"_

_"Yeah, he needs me to stand up for him,"_

_"He needs you to be his Mummy!" Andromeda shouts. Her brain is whirring and she's starting to shake, too. Nymphadora has always been wilful but this is not the time or place. She cannot be part of this battle. She cannot leave her child._

_"I hope I can be, Merlin I hope I can be tomorrow, or whenever this ends. Look after him for me, Mum. Tell him how proud we are of him,"_

_"- Nymphadora-" Andromeda pleads. Her voice is getting more hysterical, more like her big sister's._

_"- I've made my choice, and you know what it is because you made the same one, didn't you? With Dad,"_

_Dad. Andromeda's husband. Her beautiful Ted. His death still hasn't sunk in- how can it when Andromeda hasn't seen his body? It's as if he'll walk back through the door any minute laughing at her for believing his silly joke. One of the last things he'd said to her before he'd gone on the run was to make Andromeda swear to look after their daughter and the baby. Andromeda_ has  _to keep her promise._

_"I chose my family," she chokes out. She gave up_   _everything for Ted, for Nymphadora. Everything._

_"So am I," says Nymphadora sadly, "But in a different way,"_

_Andromeda snaps. "No, you're not, you're being foolish. You've done enough for them, and I'm not letting you leave your month-old son to-_

_"Mum," Nymphadora whispers, "Please don't make this harder than it already is,"_

_"WHAT ABOUT ME?!" Andromeda yells, "What about me? I've lost your Dad, I can't lose you as well,"_

_"You've got him," says Nymphadora, coming over to her to stroke the baby's back, "You've got Teddy,"_

_"I'm begging you. Please,_ please. _Not you as well. Not you,"_

_Tears seep from Andromeda's eyes. Not her, not her. She can't lose her husband_  and _her daughter. Not her, anybody but her. Andromeda's shout has woken Teddy, and now he's started to cry._

_"Mum, I'm sorry, I have to. If I can get Bellatrix-"_

_"She's nearly killed you twice already!"_

_Nymphadora looks up at her. "Third time lucky for me," she says. Her voice is toneless._

_"Your hubris will be the death of you. Do you honestly think-"_

_"What choice do I have? They've already got Dad, they'll be after you and Remus and Teddy next. I'm his mother, I've got to protect him,"_

No no no. Please no, _Andromeda thinks_ , please don't go. Please, not you, not you _. But her voice is lost in tears and terror, and she cannot get the words out._

_"I'm protecting you too, and Remus if I can find him there," Nymphadora continues over the sound of her howling baby, "And if I can't, if you see him again before I do, tell him…tell him I love him and that I think he always knew I'd make this choice. And tell him that he was worth it. That's really important, you have to tell him that, Mum. 'You were worth it'- do you promise?"_

_"I- yes, alright," Andromeda promises, because there's no point arguing about that when she_ has  _to persuade Nymphadora to stay, "But listen, can't you-"_

_"No. I can't, Mum, I really can't,"_

_Nymphadora's crying too, and Teddy's wails are getting louder and Andromeda can hardly see for tears. This is not happening, this cannot happen. Ted could talk sense into their reckless daughter. Ted would give her his lop-sided smile and say gently, "Don't be a muppet, Dora". Ted would put his arms around Andromeda, tell a daft joke and make everything alright._

_Ted isn't here._

_Nymphadora opens the envelope again, grabs a pen from the mantelpiece and starts writing. Andromeda stands there, holding the wriggling, mewling baby, the only person more helpless than her. She shushes him for something to do, and watches as Nymphadora brushes tears from her cheek while she scribbles on the page. Andromeda wipes her own eyes and takes three deep breaths, like she used to when her sisters wound her up. Calm down, calm down. Remus is always calm and composed. Had Nymphadora begged him to stay when he'd left? If that why she wants to go, because she wants to be with her husband? But as besotted as Nymphadora is with him, he can't be the only reason. If this really is the final day of the war, then….no. No. There is no reason good enough for her to go. Never._

_"Keep him safe," Nymphadora says, looking up from the table. Then she mutters to herself, "Shit, did I write that down?"_

_She re-opens the envelope, scribbles a few more words at the bottom of the page, shoves the paper back into the envelope and thrusts it at Andromeda._

_"Keep him safe, Mum,_ please _keep him safe,"_

_"How am I supposed to do that without you? Without your Dad?" Andromeda wails._

_Nymphadora smiles lop-sidedly. Ted's smile. "Mum, come on. You don't need us to look after you,"_

_"Your baby needs you to look after him!". What if they both get themselves killed and Andromeda's left to raise him on her own? She can't possibly…he's four weeks old, she can't, Nymphadora can't leave him…_

_"I know, I know," Nymphadora nods sadly, "Mum, can I hold him? I need to say goodbye,"_

"Granny, why are you crying?"

He was seven years old now. Looked a lot like his Dad but he'd inherited the Black eyes, darling Ted's lop-sided smile and Nymphadora's penchant for multicoloured hair. He liked it turquoise or yellow or Weasley ginger. Sometimes he morphed it pink and when he did and Andromeda glanced at him she sometimes thought it was Nymphadora, ending this silly hiding game and come home to them. And then Teddy would turn around look at her with Remus' face and the moment would shatter. He sometimes said that he missed his Mummy and Daddy, and he got uncomfortable walking into a room full of families, but Andromeda reckoned that he didn't really understand it yet. She knew it would get worse as he grew older.

"Granny! I don't like it when you cry!"

Teddy was gazing up at her with her own eyes, looking worried. Hastily, Andromeda brushed the years from her face, and ruffled Teddy's hair. "Sorry, sweetheart,"

"Why are you crying?" he asked. His voice had a permanent rasp to it, like Remus' had.

"I miss your Mummy," Andromeda told him.

"Oh," Teddy said and sucked his finger, "Me too. But you have me and I have you, Granny, so we're fine,"

He took his finger out of his mouth and her a gap-toothed Ted smile. Sweet boy. Nymphadora would have had so much fun with him. They would have adored each other.

"Yes, we are," Andromeda agreed, lying.

"Mmm," he nodded, bouncing on his toes, "Can we go to the park now?"

He loved the park, and had already stuffed his feet into his trainers. Teddy grabbed Andromeda's hand and pulled her towards the door. Towards the outside. The world. To life.

Andromeda followed.

 


	11. Wedding Afternoon: Marmalade

He elbows his way through the crowd to where the cute blonde is eating a slice of lemon cake.

“May I have this dance?” he asks her.

Tonks swallows her cake and glances at the left-hand side of his face but he claps his hand over it so she can’t see his ear, or lack thereof.

“Uh-uh. Guess,” he demands.

Tonks looks him up and down. “Fred,”

“Better luck next time,” he replies, removing his hand to display the hole where his ear used to be, “Now you _have_ to dance with me,”

“Well, since you ask so nicely how can I resist? Although here’s your warning that I’ll probably tread on your toes,”

“Looking forward to it,” George grins. He holds his hand out to lead her onto the dancefloor. Ginny is jiving with Charlie, Mum is dancing with Rowan Keveny and the Lovegoods are flitting around waving their arms is a bizarre jazz-hands movement. George waves to them and pulls Tonks into hold. The music is upbeat and jumpy, George’s favourite type. None of that boring waltz-y malarkey.

“I thought you and Fred were off chasing Veela?” Tonks asks, raising her eyebrows as they begin to dance.

“Oh, we are,” George assures her, “We’re making a tactical retreat for the moment,”

“Dropped an accidental tonne-tongue toffee again?” she asks wryly.

George is impressed that she’s heard that anecdote, and he tells her so. “But not that kind of tactical retreat,” he adds, “We’re leaving them for a while, playing hard to get. And what better way to do that than to dance with the most beautiful girl at the wedding,”

He winks. She _is_ pretty, he reckons, especially today. Something about her is glowing with happiness. George doesn’t have much time for girls who are too serious. His new sister-in-law’s a stunner but she takes herself too seriously and doesn’t smile often. From what the twins have observed, Ron might be on the cusp of getting somewhere with Hermione (they knew that book would do him good), but George has never understood what Ron sees a bird whose so uptight. Tonks is a fun type of girl, the type who jokes and giggles and explains how to get Extendable Ears through shield charms.

“Somebody’s put their flattery hat on today,” Tonks notes, “Can you spin me a bit slower, it’s like dancing with a drunk Portkey,”

“Right, sorry,” he says, slowing down. He’s getting used to his missing ear so sometimes his movements can be too sharp and fast. “Anyway, I haven’t got my flattery hat on, I’m usually this level of charming. You obviously haven’t been paying enough attention,”

_“You_ not getting enough attention? Fat chance,”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Where’s the Prof got to, anyway?” George asks. He’s barely seen Lupin all day.

Abruptly, Tonks’ expression changes. Her face doesn’t fall exactly, but there’s a slight dimming of that glow about her and she stiffens in George’s arms.

“Um, I’m not sure. I think he was talking to Hagrid,”

George can tell immediately that there’s something not right here. He gives her a shrewd look, wondering if he should press it further. They only got married a few weeks ago, they can hardly be having problems already, can they? This is Ginny’s area, and George makes a mental note to ask her later. In the meantime he settles on addressing the topic indirectly by shrugging, “Bet your wedding was much less palaver than this,”

Tonks looks relieved at the change of subject, “Yeah, it was really quiet, no dancing or dress robes or anything,”

“No dress robes? Wish I’d gone to yours instead of this one,”

“But there weren’t any Veela at our wedding,” Tonks points out, “Whoops, sorry. Told you I’d step on your toes,”

“Dress robes and Veela, or no dress robes and no Veela?” George ponders, moving his feet out of her way. The twins had bought new dress robes for the wedding which were a vast improvement on the revolting second-hand ones Mum gave them for the Yule Ball, but the collar and cuffs were tight and the bottom swirled unhelpfully around his feet. But the Veela girls were _dazzling…._

“Come off it, you’d take the Veela. You two don’t care what you look like,” scoffs Tonks.

“Hey!” George protests, then adds, “Although if you mean that we can pull any look off, however ridiculous, then you do have a point,”

“You’re taking to the girl whose idea of fun is turning her mouth into a beak. I’m the queen of ridiculous looks,”

“And you pull them off _ravishingly._ I’m disappointed the pig nose isn’t making an appearance today,”

“Might bring it out later,” Tonks shrugs.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replies. They reach a corner of the dancefloor and head back the other way.

“Well, watch out for any pigs sneaking up on you while you’re getting off with your Veela,”

“I’ll give you five sickles if you do that to Fred,”

“Ten,”

“Six,”

“Seven,”

“Done,”

They shake hands, and after the song end and George announces, “Shall we get a drink?”

He steers Tonks over to the bar, grabs two Firewhiskies, clinks them together, hands one to Tonks and drains his own. Tonks holds onto the glass but doesn’t take a sip.

“Drink up,” George coaxes.

“I think I’ll have juice actually,” Tonks says, setting the Firewhisky down, “I’ve had enough booze for today,”

_Boring._ Who knew marriage would make her such a square? “Get a life, Tonks,” George groans. But she shrugs and takes a pumpkin juice instead. That’s weird- why isn’t she bantering back? George isn’t sure what’s up and Tonks is being oddly evasive, so he continues cajoling.

“You haven’t had too much, I’ve barely seen you drink anything all-“

He stops abruptly as realization slams into his brain. Woah. _Woaaaah._ She’s not drinking. She wouldn’t let him spin her fast. She’s got that happy glow about her.

“Holy Merlin,” George breathes, “You’re pregnant,”

Tonks smiles. Then her jaw stiffens. She puts her glass down. George’s brain is busy whirring with this revelation but he can see that Tonks is calculating how to reply. When eventually she settles on, “Err, yeah,” she can’t keep the grin from creeping back onto her face.

“Wow,” marvels George, “Congratulations,”

“Thanks, George,”

He pulls her into a hug and kisses the top of her head. A baby. _Tonks_ is having a _baby._ Crikey.

“Blimey, you two don’t hang about. Only married five minutes and you’ve already got one in the oven,” he observes, releasing her from his embrace.

“To be honest it wasn’t entirely planned,” she admits.

“The Professor’s a speedy operator, eh?”. Who’d have thought it of shabby old Lupin? George is impressed. But this time Tonks’s face _does_ fall.

“Oh, sorry,” George backpedals hastily, “Have you told him?” Surely she must have done, she’s hardly going to tell him before she tells her husband.

“Yes,” Tonks confirms, and her eyes drop to the floor.

“And?” George prompts.

“And what?”

“Nobody pulls that face unless there’s an ‘and’,”

“There’s not,” she says defensively.

“Is the Prof not happy about it?”

“George-“

“That’s why he’s avoiding you,” George theorises, “He thinks it’s too soon?”

“He’s not avoiding me,” Tonks snaps, “It’s none of your business,”

Blimey. George, who counts himself as an expert on angry tones, has never heard her use that that one before. She sounds stung, too. Was it too personal a question? But of course he’s going to be interested; she’s his mate. Alright, he’s nosey but Tonks knows that and she is too and that’s why they get on. She’s dealing with a Weasley twin, she knows what they’re like. She _likes_ that they’re like that.

“I’m your friend, I just-“ George begins, but the look Tonks gives him makes him change tack, “Alright, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything,”

Okay okay, he’ll shut up if she’s going to be so tetchy. George decides immediately that he’s gone off this pregnant version of Tonks. Get back to him when the kid’s a toddler and ready to have fun with.

Tonks closes her eyes slowly then opens them again. “Could you not tell anybody, George?”

“Oh. Okay, if you want,” he says, confused. He rubs the spot underneath his missing ear uneasily.

“Not even Fred,”

Now she’s being seriously ridiculous. “Well, I have to tell Fred,” George scoffs. They don’t keep secrets from each other. Never have, never will.

“I’m serious. We- I- he,” she stammers, then seems to give up on a pronoun and continues, “Keeping it quiet. You know, what with everything else going on,”

“Fine, if it’s that important to you I won’t tell Fred,” George promises, although he definitely will. Fred comes above everybody else.

“Thanks,” she says stiffly. There’s an awkward pause, and then Tonks mutters, “I’m going for a sit down. You’d probably be getting back to your Veela,”

She turns away abruptly.

“Tonks,” George calls. She can’t leave on _that_ note. George has to know what’s going on. He takes a couple of steps to follow but Xeno Lovegood gets in his way with his stupid dancing and by the time George has shooed him out of the way Tonks has merged into the crowd. Usually she’s easy to find because of her hair although today the blonde makes her less conspicuous. George cranes his neck but he can’t see her, and the Prof hasn’t reappeared either. Merlin, what’s up with those two? George grabs another Firewhiskey while he computes it all. He’d been vaguely aware since a couple of years ago that the Prof and Tonks were close mates, but their engagement announcement a few days after Dumbledore’s funeral had been a shock. Mum had been having kittens about it of course. And now Tonks is pregnant. The Prof is going to be a _dad_ \- that’s a bizarre idea. He’s, what, forty? He’s a nice chap but a bit of a lone…well, wolf. George can’t picture him playing trains or mashing bananas. And how’s it going to work out with the werewolf thing? No matter how much of a decent bloke Lupin is the idea makes George shudder sometimes. And the Metamorthmagus thing? Is Tonks going to give birth to a pink werewolf? Her initial reaction when George worked it out had been to smile so she must be pleased. But Professor Lupin’s looking miserable and perhaps avoiding her so George doubts that he’s as thrilled. Lupin’s a worrier so he’s likely to be panicking about baby clothes and burping and all that. He’s an adult so he’s probably got it into his head that it’s not a good idea to bring a baby into the world at the moment. Well, it’s not a good idea to run a joke shop either, but WWW has done better than ever this Summer holiday. Everything would be better if they all stopped being so flipping pessimistic. Professor’s Lupin’s concern must be stressing Tonks out too. That’s why she was being so Hermione-ishly waspish. She’s normally like his ballsy big sister and George can’t imagine her as a parent. He needs to run this by Fred. George understands everything better once he’s talked it through with Fred even if they’re both as nonplussed as each other.

George grabs an extra Firewhiskey for his twin, checks his reflection in the glass in case he bumps into the Veela girls on the way, and sets off to find him. The abundance of Weasleys here today means that it’s less easy to pick out a specific redhead. If Fred’s snuck back early and nabbed George’s Veela he’ll hex him. It’d be very Fred to cheat like that. George scouts around for him by the desert station and the gate and the suspiciously spotless chicken coup. He’s about the investigate inside the house to see if Fred’s disappeared in there, when a familiar voice yelps at him.

“George, there you are. I need to talk to you- I’ve just been with the Prof and he was really weird with me, there’s definitely something up,”

Fred is standing behind him also holding two glasses of Firewhiskey and looking perturbed.

“Did he tell you?” George asks, swapping his extra glass with Fred’s.

“Tell me what? He didn’t say much,”

A grin splits George’s face. “Oh, Fred. Oh brother mine, do I have news for you…”.


	12. Betty

_Well, I'm not the world's most physical guy,_

_But when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine_

The Kinks,  _Lola._

 

Remus is sprawled on his back on Orion Black’s office floor, hair rumpled and shirt unbuttoned. He’s got one hand in Tonks’ hair and the other gripping her hip while she licks her way down his chest. She’s straddling his waist and her pink hair’s tickling his skin as she laps at his nipple, and Remus’ body is buzzing, every nerve is prickling for her.

"Nnf...Tonks, I...I just- Tonks, I-" Remus bites out, trying to verbalise what this feels like, but his mind goes blank as Tonks grinds her hips over his hard-on, and he can only blurt, "Bloody Merlin".

He gives up on words and knocks his head back onto the carpet, panting, but Tonks’ mouth stops moving and she crawls back up his torso.

"Are you alright?" Remus asks, surprised that he can form a coherent question.

Tonks’ face hovers over his, and the nervousness in her expression distracts Remus from admiring how pretty she looks.

"I- you can call me Dora if you want," she says, hesitating, "….That's what my family call me,”

“Oh,” Remus says dumbly, “That’s nice,”

“I think I’d like it if you called me it”. Her voice is very soft.

Remus reaches up to cup the side of her face. He rubs his thumb across her lips. “Dora”. It sounds strange in his mouth. He says it again. She smiles contentedly at him, and then he sees that Black glint of madness in her eyes, the one that he’s so used to seeing in Sirius’ (why is he thinking of Sirius _now?)_ and her smile merges into a wicked grin that promises the best kind of trouble. Terrifyingly, he thinks he might be the only person she smiles like that for. _God,_ this girl. Lust bristles inside him and he rolls her onto her back, pinning her legs to the floor with his own. Tonks yelps, then bites her lip and gazes up at him hungrily, tugging on his belt. Remus leans down to blow wet raspberries across her throat the way she likes (as if there is a woman on the planet who has told him things she likes him to do to her in bed. Or in this case, on floor) and arches her back to push herself against him (as if there is a woman who wants to press her body closer to his) and murmurs to him not to stop (as if there is- but then she squirms underneath him and he stops thinking).

Tonks smirks her wicked smile again and says, "If you tell Sirius he can call me that I'll hex you,"

Sirius what? Call her what? Oh right, names. Yeah.

“Noted,” Remus chokes, observing frustratedly that she’s not as distracted as he is. Well, he’ll see what he can do about that. He snakes his hand between their bodies and slides Tonks’ t-shirt up so his thumb can toy with her bellybutton piercing, while his fourth and fifth fingers slip underneath her jeans. He’s getting more confident in being rougher and more assertive like this. Tonks has been rolling her eyes recently when he’s been hesitant so he suspects that she likes this more dominant side to him. He likes it too. Remus sucks on her neck then turns his attention to her ear, flicking his tongue across the shell and making sure she can hear his gruff breath. He likes that she has that effect on his voice, makes it hiss or squeak excitedly or drop an octave. Remus kisses sloppily across her face and into her mouth, tangling their tongues. Hers is warm and wet and swirls gloriously against his.  

“Remus,” Tonks sighs into his mouth. Even more than how much he likes the effect she was on his voice, Remus likes the effect he has on hers; she sounds faint and bamboozled and raw.

Tonks’ breath hitches as Remus shifts on top of her to lean into her ear again and tell her, “You can call me Moony, if you want,”

He’s pleased to see that he’s got Tonks so worked up that it takes her a couple of seconds to figure out what he means. When she does she twists her head to meet his eye with a questioning look. It’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen her; face so close to his, lips swollen from kissing, eyelids heavy with lust but underneath her eyes are giving him that inquisitive stare that is so very her.

Remus gives her his Marauder grin. “Kidding”.


	13. Wedding Afternoon: Jam

Guilt must have a sense of humour, because Nymphadora Tonks is dancing with George Weasley. The boy who has sustained a horrible injury because of Remus and the girl who he’s consigned to a life in poverty and exile, now with a werewolf pup to boot, are chatting and chuckling as they spin each other around the dancefloor in the Weasley’s back garden. Remus is resisting the temptation to punish himself by watching them, so is instead concentrating very hard on the back of Viktor Krum’s head while Krum talks to Hagrid. If only, Remus tells himself, he could have resisted temptation like this when it came to Tonks. He’d tried to push her away, but eventually gave in to lust and stupidity and selfishness. Now look where that’s lead. Marrying her was bad enough but now he’s knocked her up, lumbered her with a half-breed husband and a God-knows-what child. And the worst part is that she’s so happy about it. Tonks been glowing since she found out about the baby a few days ago; laughing louder than usual and touching him all the time. Remus wants to scream at her that she shouldn’t be smiling about it, she should be terrified. This is a catastrophe. Last night he’d mentioned terminating the pregnancy and Dora had looked horror-struck. He’d wanted to snap that it wasn’t an appalling idea; people did it all the time. She was only a few weeks gone so although she kept saying “the baby” it was hardly more than a clump of cells at the moment. A tumour. It needed to be wiped out like a tumour, but he’d known from Tonks’ face last night that she’d never agree to it. _I’m having this baby,_ she’d told him, and when Dora had made her mind up about something woe betide anybody who tried to change it. He’d learnt that the hard way.

Then there’s the boy she’s dancing with, one of a pair of twins now missing one of his pair of ears. Remus knows that what happened wasn’t entirely his fault, but he replays it on loop in his mind, asking himself what could he have done differently. If he’d glanced behind himself at the right moment, if he’d reminded George that being Harry’s weight and size would affect his maneuverability, if he’d dodged the Death Eaters by flying higher instead of diving. Thestrals had been deemed the safest way to fly and Remus had thought that he’d been being helpful by saying that he’d travel by broomstick instead. What a stupid idea, he thought now. He wasn’t a strong flier; he should have known he’d make mistakes in the air. He should have thought more of George, barely a year out of school- why hadn’t Remus insisted on going by Thestral to keep him safe? And he’d ended up almost getting the boy killed. The twins joke about the hole in George’s head but everybody else winces when they see it. It’s ghastly and surely it’ll end up getting infected or causing some sort of problem in the future? A cheerful nineteen-year-old lad and Remus hadn’t been able to stop him getting this dreadful injury.

Remus takes a sip of pumpkin juice and stares at Krum. He feels awful and, ironically, the only person who could make him feel better is half the reason he’s feeling awful in the first place. He wants Tonks to come here and hug him from behind and tell him, like she sometimes does, “Don’t worry, daft thing. We’re going to be alright”. He wants her to run her thumb over his cheek and her hand through his hair. He wants her to look at him with her mischievous smile and her eyes with that mad Black glint in them and tell him whatever bonkers thought is in her head. He wants-

“They’re both flying way above their height with us, eh?” says a voice. Remus glances round to see Fred Weasley slipping into the seat beside him. He helps himself to Remus’ glass and takes a sip, but pulls a face and puts it back down when he realises that it isn’t alcoholic. Then he crosses one leg over the other and glances over at where Tonks and George are dancing.

“I thought you were off mingling with Fleur’s Veela cousins?” Remus asks grumpily. He can’t be bothered with Fred Weasley right now.

“Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen, Professor,” Fred trills. Remus shoots him a confused look and Fred elaborates, “I’m leaving them be for half an hour or so, pretend I’ve got some deeply important business to attend to. Make them wait for me. Girls are into it,” he says wisely.

“What if they use that half-hour to find somebody else?” Remus asks. He vaguely hopes that this will make Fred go back to his Veela and leave him alone, but the boy seems to have through this all through.

“They might,” Fred shrugs, “But it’s a wedding; there’s plenty of birds to go around. What are you doing? Don’t you dance?” Fred demands.

“I’ve already danced,” Remus says. It isn’t entirely untrue- Dora had dragged him up there earlier and he’d managed one song before shrugging her off.

“You’re not dancing now. Come on, I’ll help you find someone-“ says Fred, leaping to his feet.

“I’m fine thanks, Fred,”

Remus expects Fred to ignore this and continue to ramble, but instead he looks shrewdly at Remus and sits back down.

“Something wrong, Prof? You look like someone’s fed your Pygmy Puff to Fang”. It’s four years since he taught them but twins still insist on calling Remus ‘Professor’ or ‘The Prof’. Remus suspects that they reckon it winds him up, but actually he finds it rather charming.

“It’s nearly full moon,” Remus explains, even though the full moon is actually nine days away. Being a werewolf is beyond dreadful, but at least it gives him a ready-made excuse for being reluctant and distant.

“I call bull on that, sir, the full moon’s at the end of next week,” Fred chirps.

Bugger. How on Earth does _Fred_ know that? Remus looks at him questioningly.

“George and I need to know it to pick moonflower roots for our daydream charms,” he shrugs, “So. What’s bothering you?”

Remus tries to think of something to say to divert the conversation, but Fred follows his gaze and theorises, “Well, you’re obviously looking everywhere apart from your wife and my brother, so it’s going to be something to do with them. George isn’t going to steal your bird, if that’s what your worried about. He’s got his own Veelas to attend to,”

“Right. Good to know,” Remus mutters disinterestedly.

But then Fred says abruptly, “Does his ear bother you, sir?”

Remus turns to him. Fred’s face is the most serious Remus has ever seen it.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? We all knew what we were getting ourselves in for, joining the Order, fetching Harry that night. Me and George have talked it through hundreds of times and we agree it’s worth it. Neither of us would have done it if the other one didn’t want to, and we’ve thought it through and we do want to. So don’t get thinking it’s your fault,”

Remus almost gapes at him after this rather confusing speech. He hadn’t expected such a thoughtful and generous response. And Fred’s right, isn’t he- the twins are jokesters but they’re not idiots and they know exactly the risks they’re taking on. Remus shouldn’t have dismissed him.

“Thanks, Fred,” he says at last.

“S’alright,” the boy nods, looking oddly noble until he adds, “And look, it’s not a leg or a hand or a bollock, is it?”

“No, it’s certainly not a bollock,” Remus agrees, smirking in spite of himself.

“It’s only an-“ but Fred cuts himself off abruptly and looks down at his shoes.

“Fred?” Remus prompts, confused.

“It’s only an ear,” the boy whispers. When he looks up again, his face is completely different, “It’s not really though, is it, sir?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look, I said it wasn’t your fault, and it isn’t but …it’s- it’s not exactly easy,” Fred mumbles. Remus has never heard him sound so hesitant. He says nothing and waits for Fred to continue. “I don’t like not being identical. Our entire lives it’s been Fred-and-George, ‘Which one are you?’, ‘I can never tell you two apart’. That’s our identity. Ironic, isn’t it? And now, well, now we’re not,”

Remus feels pity sink in his stomach. He hadn’t thought about this before- it must be so bizarre and bewildering for Fred.

“Fred. I’m so sorry. I suppose everybody’s been asking how George is but not you,”

“I’m not jealous,” Fred replies quickly, “I’m…sad. I feel a bit betrayed, like he’s left me somehow,”

“That makes sense,” says Remus immediately, because it does. Of course it would seem to Fred like being left behind, losing a piece of his identity. Being an identical twin is an unusual relationship especially twins as close as Fred and George, so for an obvious physical change to happen to one of them must feel huge. It _is_ huge.

 “Have you spoken to George about this?” Remus asks.

“Of course,” responds Fred, sounding mildly offended at the question.

“And what does he say? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,”

“Nah, it’s okay. He gets it, but it’s different because it’s _happened_ to him, hasn’t it? I’m the one left behind. I’m not used to that. And the identical thing…I feel a bit exposed. Nobody to hide behind,”

“You think you hide behind him?” Remus asks, surprised.

“Nah. But we…I dunno, it’s hard to explain. You know how we are, sir,”

“Yes, I do,” Remus smiles.

“Well, we’re not like that anymore, are we?” Fred gazes dejectedly at his feet and finishes, “It’s not your fault, okay?”

Remus looks at him and tries to believe his words, words which were so unexpected from Fred Weasley’s mouth. Inamongst the guilt and sympathy and inner turmoil, Remus feels strangely proud of him.

“Fred, I never-“

“-Though I was that sensitive? We keep it well hidden,”

“No, I was going to say I never agreed with Professor Sinistra that the two boys who never did their homework in fifth year were going to become good-for-nothing wastrels. I’m pleased to say I was right,”

“Oh, Professor Lupin, you make me blush,” says Fred, fanning himself mock-girlishly. Then he twigs an eyebrow and prods, “Anyway, now I’ve told you _my_ woes, what about you? Trouble in paradise?”

“Everything’s fine,” says Remus, then grimaces at how tart his voice sounds.

Fred gives him a skeptical look. “Sir. Come on. It’s obvious that y-“

“You’re not going to get any gossip out of me because there’s nothing to tell,” Remus informs him. He crosses his arms, then realises it looks too defensive and unfolds them quickly. He shouldn’t have interrupted either. Merlin, he doesn’t know how to handle any of this.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Fred sniffs, “Nothing stays quiet round here for long and we all know Tonks can’t keep her trap shut,”

Remus glares at him but Fred ignores it, stands up and announces testily, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got Veela to attend to, and you’ve obviously got a busy schedule moping. Thanks for the heart-to-heart,”

“No, it’s-“

“If you weren’t too busy feeling sorry for yourself you’d realise that I’m asking because we all want to help you, not cos I want to take the piss,” Fred tells impatiently. _If you weren’t too busy feeling sorry for yourself…_ Dora had said something similar to him a long time ago, hiding in the attic of the house nextdoor to the Avery’s. Remus isn’t sure if she’d been right. He wants to ask Fred what he means; who else can tell something’s wrong, what they’ve been saying and what they think they can do to help.

“Fred, listen-“

Remus jumps to his feet, but Fred’s already been swallowed up by the crowd.


	14. What It's Really Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was quite upsetting to write, so here’s your warning for distressing content. But this chapter is also one of my favourites, so I hope you like it too.

_“He’s sent to the floor, a pure mess of grief,”_

_\- Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Part Two_

Half of the objects in the kitchen had exploded. Ginny was going to have to take this outside. She hooked her arms around Teddy’s waist and attempted to drag him towards the back door but he squirmed free, threw himself down on the carpet and started thrashing his little limbs.

“I hate Albus! _I hate Albus!”_ he howled, pummeling the floor. His hair had turned scarlet with wrath.

Ginny scooped him up, tossed him over her shoulder and kept a firm grip on his legs as she carried him in a fireman’s lift out into the garden. Teddy’s small fists hammered on Ginny’s back as he tried to kick his legs free.

“Lemme go! Get _off_ me!” he screeched. He was average size for a nine-year-old but rage had made him strong; there were scratches and toothmarks up Ginny’s arms from where she’d already tried to restrain him. Anger had made Teddy powerful too, and the kitchen was littered with crockery that his untrained magic had shattered. Ginny had never seen anybody so angry. It was frightening to see such a small boy possessed by such intense fury.

“Put me down!” Teddy shrieked, twisting so suddenly that Ginny dropped him onto the grass. Teddy scrambled for the back door but Ginny flicked her wand to shut and lock it. Teddy reached the door and banged his palm on the wood, kicked it, then wheeled round.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill Albus! I’m a werewolf, _I’ll kill him!”_

“Teddy,” said Ginny seriously, “It would break your Dad’s heart to hear you call yourself that,”

“Good! This is- all- his- fault!”

Teddy punctuated each word with a kick, then hurled his whole body at the door. His head thwacked onto the wood but he didn’t seem to care because he did it again. And again. And this, Ginny thought, was what the war really was. It wasn’t the smell of Ron’s sweaty t-shirt when he hugged her after the Ministry, it wasn’t Dumbledore’s solid coffin, it wasn’t the sound of her blood thrumming in her ears as she pelted down corridors with the Carrows at her heels. The war hadn’t been about danger or unity or her Order of Merlin. The war was her polite, artistic, introspective, talkative, cheerful godson repeatedly smacking his head on a door.

Ginny grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away. “You’ll hurt yourself,”.

 “I don’t care!” he hissed.

“ _I_ care. You can break whatever you want out here, as long as don’t hurt the boys or yourself,”

“I hate you all! I hate Albus, I hate James, I hate you, I hate Harry, I hate Granny, I hate Mummy and Daddy!”

This is what it had all been about. They’d fought so that fewer children had this pain tearing at their insides. But it had been too late for Teddy. Teddy was another casualty.

“I know, I know,” Ginny said soothingly, “Teddy, st-“

“No, you don’t!” Teddy roared. His face was almost as red as his hair. “Harry pretends he understands but he _doesn’t understand!_ They didn’t want to leave him, they were killed! Harry pretends it’s the same, but _it isn’t the same_ and I _hate_ Albus, I hate him, I’m going to-“

But Teddy never told Ginny what he was going to do to her baby son, because he abruptly started to twitch, then retched, and then was sick down his t-shirt and onto the patio. He started trembling and Ginny thought he was going to pass out. She dashed over and caught Teddy as his knees gave way, but he didn’t faint. His little body shook with grief.

“Why did they go? They didn’t have to go,” he squealed, curling into a ball, “They didn’t have to go and they left me,”

“I know, I know. Shh, Ted, shh. Deep breaths,” Ginny whispered. The two of them had ended up in a tangle of limbs and Teddy burrowed his face into her neck, smearing vomit and saliva over her while she rubbed circles onto his back, “It’s alright, baby, it’s okay. Deep breaths, good lad,”

“Why didn’t they stay?” Teddy squeaked into her shoulder, “Harry parents stayed with him. Why didn’t mine stay? Why didn’t they stay?”

He asked over and over, like a prayer. All Ginny could do was tell him to take deep breaths and that he was a good boy and that she was there.

“Good lad. Shh, shh. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” she suggested.

“Yuh ‘kay,” he mumbled.

Teddy clung to Ginny like a Simian ape as she stood up and carried him back inside her house. Thankfully Albus was still asleep in his cot, and James had taken cover from Teddy’s tantrum upstairs and hadn’t reappeared. He was probably jumping on his bed or chucking all of Ginny’s Quidditch figurines onto the floor, but Ginny was happy to leave her oldest son to whatever mischief he was up to if it gave her more time to calm Teddy down. She sat him down on the sofa, poured him a glass of water and _tergeo-_ d his sticky t-shirt.

“Better?”

“Albus gets a Mummy and Daddy, why don’t I? Why did they go?” he whispered, gripping his glass tightly.

“You’re going to be okay,” Ginny promised, lifting him onto her lap, “I’ve got you and everything’s going to be okay,”

Teddy dropped the glass and crumpled with sobs. It was taking everything Ginny had not to cry too. When James got upset she told him to think of nice things, but what nice things could cheer up a boy whose parents had been killed? Had left him to go and die? Ted was right, it was different to Harry. And even thought it had been worth it, Tonks and Professor Lupin had still left Teddy. They had made that choice.

“I’m here. I love you,” Ginny murmured into his hair. The scarlet was fading into a reddy-brown. She adored this little boy; everybody did. But it wasn’t enough.

After a long moment, Teddy peeled his face away from Ginny’s neck. He looked up at her with his mother’s eyes and asked, “If it all happened again, would you go?”

Poor kid. Her brave and beautiful boy. Ginny squeezed him tight. “Ted. Your Mummy and Daddy loved you very, very much,” she told him, because she hoped that was what he was really asking.

“But would you?” he persisted.

Ginny considered. She thought of James’ squeaky giggle, his wet and clumsy kisses and the way he pronounced “Th” like “F”. She thought of Albus’ green eyes, just like Harry’s, and the feel of his warm tummy under his vest. She thought of the way Harry balled his fists up when he was excited and of Charlie’s rumbly laugh and of Mum’s jam roly-poly. She remembered the time George had shown her how Fainting Fancies worked (“See, Gin, it’s a liquid-form stunning spell,”). Ginny thought of Tom’s handwriting, Bellatrix’s hysterical cackle, and the sting when Amycus Carrow had first slapped her. “Mudblood”, “Blood traitor”, “Half-breed”, “Freak”, “You’re a disgrace to the name of wizard, girl”, “Magic is Might”, “Call yourself a pure-blood, Weasley? Where’s your pride?”, “Freak”, “Mongrel”, “Mudblood. _Mudblood!”._ She remembered pulling Harry away from Dumbledore’s corpse and Colin’s bony body in Oliver Wood’s arms. Fred. She thought of Harry’s nightmares and how tears sometimes dribble down Mum’s face when she doesn’t want anybody to see. She remembered Professor Lupin inviting her to his office at the start of second-year for a hot chocolate, and Tonks hurdling up the stairs at Grimmauld Place calling, “Ginny, I’ve finally cracked the monkey nose!”. And then she remembered them lying dead on the floor. Ginny thought of Sunday morning cuddles with Harry and Albus and James.

She gripped Teddy’s shoulder in case her answer made him explode again, and said quietly, “I don’t know,”

Teddy didn’t explode. He nodded carefully and took another sip of his water. “Ginny?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I shut my eyes and pretend you’re my Mummy?”

It was almost as difficult for Ginny not to gape at him as it had been for her not to cry.

“Just for a little bit?” Teddy added, “Just pretend? I know it’s pretend. Please? Please?”

He was begging her. Her precious godson, whose parents had left him forever and he couldn’t understand why. She owed it to him, and to Harry, and to Tonks, who was younger when she died than Ginny is now and who never got to watch Teddy grow up.

“Alright. Okay, baby, just for a while,”

Teddy smiled, wriggled down so that he was slumped against Ginny’s chest, and closed his eyes. Ginny stroked his hair (brown now) and it wasn’t long before Teddy fell asleep, exhausted by all the shouting and violence and the emotions too big for his body and brain.

“So many people love you,” Ginny whispered, “You are so loved and so special, and…” and having this tiny baby around during the first months after the war made given them all a purpose and a distraction. Harry, who wasn’t used to not having anything to fight for, channeled his excess energy into his godson. Even George had wanted to see the baby, and Ginny had overheard Andromeda telling Mum that Teddy had given her something to live for when she’d lost everything else. “…and I’m so sorry about your parents. I’m sorry they left you and they died. I wish they could be here, Teddy, I’m so sorry…”.

She wiped her tears with her sleeve and wrapped her arms around Teddy’s back and held him safe, like his mother should have been able to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your time. I’m very grateful to everybody who has reviewed so far and any feedback on this chapter would be great.  
> PS- If you want to see more of Teddy Lupin in happier times (because we know that this kid turns out alright), please take a look at my new story, Boy. Thanks.


	15. Impressions: 22nd August 1995

Her name is Nymphadora Tonks but woe betide anybody who calls her by her first name. Well, anybody apart from Sirius, her long-lost cousin who she lets get away with murder (ironic, that). Her mother, the infamous Andromeda who ran away with a Muggle-born, was Sirius’ teenage hero and he's awed that Andromeda’s daughter is now grown-up and an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

She's a Metamorphmagus and doesn't shut up about it. The first thing she did upon entering Grimmauld Place for the first time was to check everybody was looking before asking if turquoise was her colour, and when they all seemed perplexed she announced, "Nah, I don't think so," and morphed her hair to pink. It was obvious from her face that the impressed reaction was something she was used to and enjoyed. The twins bombard her with questions like, “Can you turn yourself into a boy?” and “So what’s your _real_ face?” and her answers are cheerful, detailed and proud.

She's an Auror too, and will tell anybody who’s listening how she qualified last year after getting full marks on Concealment & Disguise but nearly failing Stealth & Tacking. Remus doesn't blame her for showing off about her job- it _is_ impressive, especially as nobody was taken on to training straight from school for two years before she was, and as far as he knows nobody has since. She trained under Mad-Eye Moody and is his special favourite, so she can say things to him that nobody else would dare and receive only a glare from his remaining eye as reprimand. Sometimes Moody even chokes out a gruff laugh. She does, Remus has noticed, make people laugh a lot. She likes silly jokes and sarcasm and if all else fails she makes her nose look like Severus'.

The Auror and the Metamorphing go together, because at a moment’s notice she can turn into an old lady or a teenage girl or the Indian woman who sings at the Leaky Cauldron. Instant disguises, no Polyjuice or human transfiguration necessary. Mad-Eye assures Remus that she is an excellent Auror and will be an excellent asset to the Order. Remus doesn’t remember hearing Moody talk about anybody else like that. Mad-Eye’s right though, because already she’s snuck into various places she shouldn’t have been and returned gleefully laden with information. Furthermore, she and Kingsley are the Order’s spies at the Auror office, keeping an eye on Fudge and Scrimgeour and diverting the search for Sirius.

He reckons that she’s a punk, or a goth, or whatever they're calling themselves these days. Her jackets and jeans have artistic tears in, her multicoloured t-shirts are either extremely tight or hugely oversized. They have slogans garishly printed on hem blaring “Gluten Tag” and “Is there a Healer in the house?” although Remus tries not to read all of them because he doesn’t want to look like he’s starring at her chest. Her dangerously short skirts are made of some sort of tutu material so that they fan out. She has piercings at the top of her ear and a tattoo on her wrist. The boots that she wears go up to her knee. Remus isn't sure how old she is but she's friendly with the older Weasley boys, the two who'd left school by the time he’d started teaching there. She's always asking Mrs Weasley what Charlie is up to in Romania. He reckons that puts her about twenty-two, and Remus remembers that by the time he was twenty-two, two of his best friends were dead because the third had betrayed the first, and that he, Remus, was alone.

Nymphadora Tonks is not alone; she’s always on about going to drinks or concerts with friends from school or colleagues from the Ministry. Her definition of "concert", he supposes, judging by her band t-shirts and the music she blares out of the kitchen radio, is probably different to his. She's seeing somebody, something Remus only knows because Sirius pointed out the love-bites on her neck a couple of weeks ago (she is not, then, the sort of woman who covers up love-bites). It's probably a tall, slim, bright Ministry boy with battered Converse like she wears, or maybe a big muscled lad who works in Quidditch promotion. Remus wouldn't know.

She seems to have appointed herself as Ginny Weasley’s older sister, which is kind because goodness knows Ginny needs one with all those big brothers. She can often be found chatting with Ginny or morphing noses for her. She's also told her to check for shield charms on the doors so they can use the twins’ Extendable Ears to eavesdrop. Remus should probably have a word with her about that but he suspects she'd laugh it off, shrug and say he was being a stick in the mud. That's what Sirius said when Remus brought it up with him, and he's very similar to his little cousin.

She trips over the doormat every time she enters Grimmauld Place. She spills her tea and drops her mug. She scrapes her plate with her fork and talks with her mouth full. Her elbows are frequently grazed and the scabs on her knees are visible through her ripped jeans. She is _constantly_ knocking things over.

She is, to be honest, a bit annoying.  She interrupts and asks too many questions and she does not. Stop. Talking. Remus wishes she would shut up for five minutes. It's like being with Sirius except she's less bitter and more prone to giggling. When she isn’t asking questions she’s probably talking about herself. This makes Remus roll his eyes but, he supposes, she _does_ has a lot to say about herself; a lot of things in her life. He isn’t sure if all of her wild anecdotes are true but he chuckles politely anyway. Sometimes when he’s in the hall he can hear her tittering upstairs with Ginny and Hermione. Hearing Hermione Granger titter is unusual, he notes. Sirius frequently commandeers his little cousin to gossip and tease and flirt with, and that annoys Remus too. He should probably cut Sirius more slack, cooped up in here all day like a madwoman in the attic (no, that’s his mother).

She says hello to Remus and asks him how he is and what he's been up to. She wants to know what book he’s reading. She needles him for embarrassing anecdotes about Sirius at school, and sometimes Remus indulges her. He can feel her eyeing him in the days around the full moon, wanting to fire questions. Everybody does. For once however, she seems to know to keep her mouth shut, and for this he is grateful. She usually offers to help Molly with the washing-up and to run errands for Kingsley (a more cynical man would suggest that she is itching for a promotion. But Remus doesn’t think she’s like that, or if she is she’s very good at disguising hankering for helpfulness. But disguise is her thing, isn’t it, so what does he know?). She mucks in with the cleaning projects Molly sets the kids. She always takes a sweet if offered one.  

Remus notices these things about her because he notices things about everybody. He’s always had a good eye for detail.  And apart from her casual enquiries about his books and her inquisitive looks at him in the days before and after the full moon, he doubts that Nymphadora Tonks has noticed him at all.


	16. Yes

In Tonks' experience funeral wakes were jolly affairs. After the solemnity of the service everybody got a few drinks down them and breathed a sigh of relief and caught up in a way they couldn't before the body was in the ground. Dumbledore's funeral was not like that. The wake was almost sadder than the service because of the awful quiet and stiffness. And the fear thick in the air. Nobody was drinking as much as they usually would, concerned that alcohol would lead to hysteria or a panic-filled, alcohol-induced argument. Mad-Eye's magical eye was spinning, on the look-out for possible brawls or worse, unwanted gatecrashers. Moody wasn't much good at sentiment or ceremony, so Tonks knew that his watch was to give himself a purpose rather than out of necessity. He was sitting near her, and it was nice to have him close, as it was Hestia and Kingsley on her other side, but the conversation was forced and dispirited. Tonks tried to stop her eyes flicking over to Remus, who was chatting to Hogwarts Express trolley witch. They were both facing away from Tonks but she could imagine him charming her in that old-fashioned way he had; pulling her chair out for her to sit down, calling her "Miss" not by her first name (come to think of it, what _was_ the trolley witch's name?) and asking her after her family. Tonks smirked, remembering how she and Sirius had used to tease him about his ooh-what-a-nice-boy manners- but the smirk faded quickly when she remembered that Sirius hasn't been here for over a year, and Dumbledore was gone too, and that it was Snape, whom Sirius had never trusted, who had killed him. Everybody had dismissed Sirius' doubts about Snape as leftover teenage rivalry, retaliation to Snape's sourness towards him, and frustration at being stuck in the house. If they had listened to him would Sirius and Dumbledore both still be alive?

The Three Broomsticks suddenly felt cramped and unpleasant. Tonks stood up abruptly, murmured something to Kingsley about needing some air, and elbowed her way through the crowd of people to head outside. At the doorway she passed Mundungus, who naturally was showing somebody the gleaming contents of his pockets. Tonks had always found his ridiculous anecdotes and incorrigibility a laugh, but he was always wary of her. She assumed this was due to her closeness to Moody, with whom Dung had never seen eye-to-eye. He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around distractedly as she passed.

"Nothin' to see here," he muttered.

"Yeah right," Tonks scoffed, then had an idea, "Have you got a fag, Dung?"

He looked curiously at her. "Didn't know you smoked,"

Tonks shrugged.

"I'll borrow yer one if yeh keep quiet about this to your boss," he said, grinning deviously.

"Everybody knows what you're up too, Dung, and nobody cares because it's a flipping funeral," she told him, "Just give me a cigarette,"

Mundungus looked offended, but fumbled in his pocket and a moment later held out a single and very grubby hand-rolled cigarette. Tonks took it.

"Ta," she muttered, and stepped out into the darkness. There was a wall round the back of the pub and Tonks walked over to sit on it, remembering fourth year when Atticus Ali had been caught spraying graffiti there, and sixth year when Mickey and his boyfriend Stuart had been caught doing something much worse (according to Professor Sprout, anyway. The general consensus amongst the rest of Tonks' year was that Mickey and Stuart were pretty badass but that they should have remembered to cast a silencing charm). Tonks sat down on the cold wall, tapped the end of the fag with her wand to light it, and took a drag. She coughed, not having had a cigarette for a few months. She'd done it at Hogwarts, leaning out of her dorm window with the other girls, none of them liking the taste but enjoying feeling rebellious and grown-up. She'd given it up for Auror training though, reserving cigarettes for treats only; birthdays, New Year's Eve, mates' housewarmings. Albus Dumbledore's funeral.

How could he be _dead,_ she grimaced, twiddling the fag between her fingers. Dumbledore, proponent of trust, murdered at the hands of a man he had repeatedly insisted had earned his faith. What the hell was anybody supposed to do now? Everything was unknowns and uncertainties, even more so than two years ago when You-Know-Who returned and last year when it was made public knowledge. Dumbledore had been a constant, like clouds or houses- something that was always there. Tonks brushed a tear from her eye before it fell, and pushed her hair behind her ear. It had grown again and faded from pink back to mousy brown on the walk back from the funeral service. This wasn't a surprise- it had taken extensive effort to turn it pink that morning. The brown had been a permanent fixture for almost a year but damn it if she wasn't going to wear pink hair to Albus Dumbledore's funeral. After an hour of gripping the sink, concentrating hard and trying to ignore the mirror's unhelpful attempts at encouragement, Tonks' reflection had looked back at her with bright pink hair. She'd forgotten how good it looked and felt, and then she'd thought about how much everything had changed since she'd last seen herself with that hair, and how much everything would keep changing now that Dumbledore was gone. How much worse everything had gotten and was going to get. The pink-haired girl in the mirror was from a different life. But it had been nice to look like that girl for a couple of hours even if she didn't feel it, so despite the inevitability of the brown hair's return, Tonks still felt betrayed by it. She nearly laughed scornfully at herself then- feeling betrayed by her hair when Snape's' betrayal of Dumbledore had led to murder. And poor Harry, having to watch it on top of everything else he's gone through. The Order were too late _again-_ they're weak and sluggish. They killed one unimportant Death Eater that night and the Death Eaters killed Albus Dumbledore. The Death Eaters must have laughed themselves sick at Dumbledore's pathetic little guerrilla mob who'd achieved nothing in two years. Tonks thought she was joining the Order to fight, but did it count as fighting if all they did was lose? She scrubbed her tears on her jumper sleeve. They hadn't even decided on a new leader. It was probably going to be Mad-Eye or Kingsley, who she loved and who were experienced duellists and tacticians, but they didn't have Dumbledore's resources, experience, contacts or extensive knowledge of, well, everything. The Order didn't stand a chance against the Death Eaters.

 _Stop your whingeing,_ barked Tonks' inner Mad-Eye, _don't get head of yourself. What do I always tell you- all you have to focus on is staying alive for the next five minutes._ Thinking of Mad-Eye's growled philosophies usually made her chuckle, but not tonight. Tonks wondered what Dumbledore thought of in his last five minutes. Was he scared? She didn't think she'd ever seen him afraid. What about his last five seconds? Snape's gloating face was probably he last thing he ever saw. That was one of the worst parts; after all the incredible, bonkers, brave things Albus Dumbledore had done, he'd ended his life wandless and helpless, murdered by his colleague and supposed friend.

There was a crunch of leaf. Tonks' eyes snapped open and she held up her wand- Auror training stuck with you even in times of despair. Constant vigilance, after all. Someone was walking around the side of the pub towards her.

"Lumos," she whispered, and the tip of her wand glowed white. Tonks held it up to see the figure's face. It was Remus. He lit his own wand and took a couple of steps forward. Her heart started hammering loudly. Stupid thing. She'd been thinking about Dumbledore and Snape and how the Order were doomed, but this impossible man still had that effect on her even a year after he'd split up with her. As Remus came closer she saw that he had an odd expression on his face; bamboozled, half-smiling. Tonks dropped the cigarette.

"Yes. Yes, alright," he said.

Tonks wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Come again?"

"Yes," he repeated, louder. He took a deep breath and said, "I will marry you,"

She stared at him. "What?"

"I lost all my best friends on one night, I got one back only to lose him again, I lost my mother, I've lost Dumbledore, and I wasted time with all of them because…well, I don't know. And I don't know if I'm going to lose you too but if I am I don't want to waste time anymore. I thought you'd be better off without me but you weren't, and I was worse without you, and Sirius and Mam and Dumbledore and everyone would want us to be happy, and what else are we fighting for? So yes. I want to marry you,"

"You're drunk," Tonks realised. It was almost a relief; he was drunk and melancholy so there was no need to get her hopes up. He was waxing poetical nonsense and wouldn't remember in the morning.

"No, I'm not. I love you and I want to marry you, so if the offer's still there I accept. And if the offer's not there-" in a swift movement he was sitting beside her and had taken her hand. He met her eyes and Tonks knew straight away that he wasn't drunk. She knew what he was like pissed, and he didn't give those kind of steely looks. Moreover, even if he was totally trollied he wouldn't mess with her like this. Which meant that it was for real. Tonks gaped. What. The. Hell. Of everything she'd expected to happen tonight, this was not it. Remus looked back and his expression was controlled but fierce. He opened with mouth but before he could get the words out Tonks blurted, "Don't say it,"

Later she wouldn't be able to explain why she hadn't wanted to hear him ask. Perhaps it was because this was all happening so fast and unexpectedly. They'd barely seen each other since the night Dumbledore died, both busy with separate Order and Ministry work, and Tonks had been mortified to speak to him after what happened in the hospital wing; she'd known he'd been stuffily furious at her. On the walk up to the funeral she'd taken his hand but insisted that it meant nothing and was just for today. Remus hadn't said anything back. And now here he was at the wake, agreeing to the offer she'd made weeks ago in the heat of anger and pain and had repeated tearfully a few times since to assure him that it hadn't been a moment of madness.

Remus' mouth snapped shut.

Tonks had no idea what was going to happen next, and blurted, "Are you trying to hijack this? I'm the one who proposed first,"

Remus looked back questioningly and she kicked herself for making a joke. Why did she always do that? Tonks shut her eyes, cringing. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't expect this,"

He didn't say anything. He was still holding her hand. His fingers were bony and Tonks remembered watching him play piano at Grimmauld Place, thinking how elegant his hands were.

"Yes, the offer's still there," she said. She opened her eyes as Remus' face cracked into a beam. She hadn't seen that for a while. It was very nice. She felt herself smile back.

"Well," he said steadily, "I accept,"

"Oh," Tonks mumbled, "Right. Thanks,"

"Yes, then?" he prompted.

"Yeah. Of course,"

He dived forward and kissed her. His mouth was and warm and insistent, the kiss wet and hard and she returned it hungrily. Oh God, she'd forgotten what his kisses tasted like. How _right_ they felt. This incredible man who was so careful with his love, but for some reason had given it to her. He was going to be hers forever. She was going to love him and protect him always. They weren't going to be apart ever again.

"Are you alright?" As sudden as his mouth had pressed to hers, he'd pulled away again and was looking at her worriedly. Tonks realised that she was crying again, tears dribbling down her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I…I wasn't expecting this," she managed to reply.

"Neither was I," Remus admitted. He was beaming again. It was beautiful.

"God, I've missed you,"

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dora," he said, gripping her shoulders to stare into her face, "Let's not waste any more time. Let's get married soon,"

"As soon as we can," she agreed.

"I'm so in love with you," he breathed, making her stomach lurch, "I'm sorry for going away. I'm sorry, I was scared and-"

She cut him off, standing up and pulling him with her as she told him, "I love you too. So much,"

She leaned up to kiss him, hurling her arms around his neck as she felt his wrap around her waist, holding each other tight. Tonks was sure that she was never going to let go of him ever again. Her fingers were gripping the back of his jacket and his lips were soft and welcoming and they were getting _married._ His tongue found hers and pushed against it, swirling inside her mouth. He'd said yes, he'd said yes, he wanted this with her and was finally letting himself he happy. He was going to be her husband. She was going to be a _wife._ His wife. Always his.

There was a sudden howl from inside the pub. The now familiar sound of Hagrid's sobs. Remus leaned away again. Oh right, Tonks remembered, they were at a funeral. Dumbledore's funeral. Five minutes ago Tonks had been in despair but now…now everything had changed. But they still shouldn't be out here snogging while inside everybody was sombre and scared. Remus' face had greyed again and he was glancing around twitchily.

She took his hand. "Shall we go back to my room and talk?".

His eyes flicked to hers and she knew that he understood what she wasn't saying; _shall we go back to my room and talk because this is the night of Albus Dumbledore's funeral and we shouldn't be thinking about tearing each other's clothes off, however much we want to._ They were a "we" now.

"That sounds perfect," he said softly.

Tonks reached up to run her fingers across his cheek and stroke his hair. "We should probably tell someone that we're leaving," she mumbled.

"Mundungus was loitering by the door,"

"Yeah, he said he'd give me a cigarette if I didn't tell Mad-Eye he was dealing counterfeits,"

"Oh, that's why you're smoking. I did wonder," he mused, smiling slightly. They hadn't spoken like this for nearly a year; most of their interactions since he came back from Greyback's camp were awkward or arguments.

"Do I reek of fags?"

"A bit," he shrugged, grinning, "But I don't care,"

The words she'd been repeating to him all these months. Promising that she didn't care about how old he was or how it wasn't the right time or how he couldn't afford it or about what he turns into every month or how people see him because of it. And now he'd realised that he didn't care about any of that either.

They smiled at each other. Then Tonks withdrew her hand from his hair and led him back round the pub. She ducked inside for a moment and tapped Dung on the shoulder. He wheeled round and looked alarmed to see her.

"Wotcher, Dung. Oh, don't look like that, I'm not bringing Mad-Eye. Can you tell everyone I've gone home? And Remus is leaving too,"

"'lright," Dung agreed.

"Thanks. Night, Mundungus,"

Tonks headed back out into the darkness. Remus was waiting, fists shoved in pockets, although he took them out when he saw her and held his hand out. He looked so happy and Tonks felt proudly that that was down to her, to them. She took his hand and together they walked back through Hogsmeade to the rented house that Tonks and the Aurors had been staying in for the last few months. She kept steeling glances at him to find him beaming back.

"You make me laugh," he said, in a vague explanation.

"Good. I like it when you laugh,"

She looked at their joined hands, his fingers next to hers. This was all crazy in the best possible way.

Savage had stayed at the Auror house for the evening instead of going to the wake, and Tonks could hear her listening to the radio in the living room. Tonks mumbled a hello and, before Savage could come into the corridor, told her that she was too tired to chat. Then she ushered Remus upstairs to her bedroom and kicked open the door.

"Immaculate, as usual," he noted, smirking as he observed the files and paper scattered over the desk and the clothes left on the floor.

She kissed him. "Shut up,"

He chuckled and hugged her. He was good at that, she remembered. His arms were secure and comfortable and home. He would always be her home.

"We're getting married," she giggled into his chest, "My husband,"

"My wife," Remus replied. He sounded so proud.

"Your old Dutch,"

"Ball and chain,"

"'Er indoors,"

They kissed again, and drifted to the bed to lie down, still talking and joking with each other. After everything that had happened he was still so easy to talk to. Fascinating and funny and fantastic, and words were interspersed with laughter and kisses and gazing at each other excitedly. Eventually Remus suggested they go to sleep (he'd expected to be going back to his cottage tonight so he didn't have pyjamas, so climbed into bed with her in his t-shirt and boxers. Tonks, remembering the not-having-sex-the-night-of-Dumbledore's-funeral thing, tried not to look) and he curled up against her in bed. He wrapped his arms round her waist and Tonks held him tight around his shoulders, stroking his hair and his back while they murmured to each other in the dark. She fell asleep in his arms, and when she woke in the morning her hair was pink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...now you've finished reading it I can tell you that recommended reading for this chapter is Love Story by Taylor Swift. You know the bit I mean. Thanks very much for reading, and please remember to review.


	17. Unofficially

Tonks has three lives. One: Auror life- pride at finally making it to the job she's always wanted, long hours filing paperwork, grueling field work, Mad-Eye's words echoing in her head at all times, trying not to become angry when Dawlish underestimates her because she's the newest. Two: Life with her friends- drinks at the Leaky, Weird Sisters concerts with Levi, trying to persuade Mickey to stick with a job for more than three months, gossiping about what everybody from school is doing, bickering about music and Quidditch. Three: Order life. Grimmauld Place, the Weasleys, the Weapon, Dumbledore, Sirius, Harry, sneaking information from the Ministry, evening planning round the Grimmauld kitchen table. Some people crop up in more than one life; Kingsley is Work and Order and so is Mad-Eye to an extent, Charlie is Order and Friends. But Charlie's back in Romania now, and although the first few weeks it of living these different lives was thrilling, the more time goes on the more complicated and exhausting it gets. The Ministry's coming down harder on Harry and Dumbledore, and the subject is becoming harder to avoid in the press and in the pub. The Order want more information leaked from the Auror office and with Kingsley keeping an eye on Fudge it's fallen to Tonks to be the Order's Auror mole. All she worked for was to become a Ministry Auror, but it's difficult to have loyalty when the Ministry is so misguided. It's becoming harder to deflect topic of You-Know-Who with her friends. She has filter everything she says, which is knackering because thinking her words through has never been Tonks' strong point. And then, to make everything even more complicated, she had to fall in love.

Introducing a new boyfriend to your mates should be nice, shouldn't it? Tonks has done that before and it's been exciting, a bit nerve-wracking and there's always been a fun de-brief on both sides afterwards. But it's different with Remus. For a start there's that bloody age gap. Tonks is sure that _she'd_ raise her eyebrows if Levi or Aisling announced they were dating someone thirteen years older. If she's totally honest she'd think it was seedy and that they were being taken advantage of by an older bloke who was only after one thing. Her mate Mickey will go the opposite way; he'll grin wickedly and hiss, "So you've found a sugar daddy? Nice one, Tonks". But Remus is the last man she'd ever imagine doing anything sleazy, and the last man she'd be sleeping with if she was after his money. If her friends met him they'd understand that. They'd see how sweet and wise he is, and he can be quite charming sometimes; she's sure they'd like him. He'd be interested in Aisling's job at the printer's and Levi would like chatting to him about those weird creatures they both like. And, well, Remus likes _her_ doesn't he, so surely he'll like her friends. Probably?

"Your turn," he says.

"What? Oh right, sorry,"

They're sprawled on Remus' ugly living room carpet playing Exploding Snap.

Tonks slaps down the seven of spades, takes a breath and asks, "Hypothetically, would you like to meet my friends?"

Remus keeps his focus on his cards and cocks his head to consider. After a moment he plays the ace of clubs and answers, "Yes. Hypothetically," but when he meets her eyes his smile wilts into a grimace, "Realistically I don't think it's particularly viable,"

She'd expected this, but it's still disappointing. She isn't going to let him wriggle out of it. "Why?"

"You know why," Remus says patiently.

Tonks groans and drops the knave of hearts into the pile. "How long are we going to keep this cloak-and dagger malarkey up? Because if you want to talk about unrealistic, keeping this a quiet for much longer I think might count,"

Remus doesn't even like to admit that they're dating to the rest of the Order. Sirius knew from the start; they agreed to tell Molly to stop her interfering, and Hestia's worked it out too. But as yet nobody else knows and that's the way Remus likes it.

"Look, I've told you before; if everybody knows about this it wouldn't do you, your career, your family or anybody any favours," he explains.

"It's starting to feel like you're my dirty little secret. And it's not like that, is it?"

There's nothing dirty about any of it, and not just because he wants to wait before having sex. They met in the kitchen of Sirius' townhouse for goodness sake, not in a squalid cellar or through one of Mundungus' dodgy schemes. They were friends for ages first; most of what they do now is talking or reading or playing Snap. It's almost amusingly wholesome.

Tonks looks into his face, waiting for the answer.

"I didn't say _secret._ Just discreet," he says.

She resists the temptation to point out that those words are so similar that they practically sound the same. Instead, she huffs and grumbles, "I wish we could be like normal people,"

Remus stiffens and his eyes flick away. Tonks realises what she's said. "No I didn't...I didn't mean _you_ , that's not what I meant,"

"I wish I was normal too," he sighs..

Dammit, why does she have to always put her foot in her mouth? She forgets about the werewolf thing, which she likes to think of as good because it shows that it isn't important to her, but forgetting means that she sometimes says stupid stuff like this.

"Well for your information I don't have the slightest interest in normal blokes," Tonks declares in an attempt to cheer him up.

Remus looks back at her. "No, I expect you don't,"

"So lucky you, eh?"

A heart-melting smile flickers across his face, "Lucky me". It's such a cliché line but he isn't one for lines; he only says things like that if he means it.

"Do you think we could try going out on a date again?" she suggests, "I'll morph,"

They've been "going out" in the seeing-each-other-romantically sense for three and a half weeks and have actually "gone out" in the being-out-of-the-house-together sense once. He worries about her being seen with him, especially since that article came out in the Prophet. Sometimes Tonks wants to snap at him that if they're going to stay indoors all the time she may as well be dating Sirius. Mostly they end up at her flat or his cottage- the latter more often, she suspects because Remus feels bad about his insistence on furtiveness so he figures he might as well invite her into his house. She likes being here; his space, his smell, his stuff. The first time she visited he shrugged, "It's not much," but she gets the impression that he's not especially embarrassed about how cramped and tumbledown his house is. And a great deal of their time together is spent at Grimmauld, where oddly he's more physical and less insistent on secrecy.

He smiles again, this time more apologetically, "We'll see,"

"Oh, come on. We'll go somewhere Muggle if you want,"

"I'll think about it,"

"That sounds like a strong maybe to me," Tonks smirks. Money's going to be an issue too- no way is she letting him spend anything on her, but she's not sure how well that'll go down. Perhaps they should go for a walk or a coffee instead of dinner.

"I'm sorry this is all so complicated," Remus says heavily, "And I know that everything that's going on looks easy for me because I don't have a job or much of a life outside the Order. I know it's much more complicated for you, and I know I don't help that,"

She'd be lying if she said he was wrong. His self-imposed secrecy is a pain, as is his hesitancy. He'd been awkward and bewildered when she blunderingly told him she liked him, and the first time she invited him round to talk it over he'd been so nervous. He's twitchy about everything physical; she doubts that sex will be on the cards for another few weeks, maybe months. Blushing, he'd promised that it wasn't because of how he felt about her but because he thought it was better to take things slowly. He often asks her, "Are you _sure_ about this? Us?", so much so that last time she snapped at him to shut up. This whole relationship is nothing if not incommodious.

She sighs. "Thanks for saying that. S'alright, it isn't your fault,"

"Well, it is a bit," he concedes with a bit of a grin.

"Just a bit. You know Remus, this is sounding suspiciously like fishing for compliments,"

She's joking- he's awful at taking compliments. Whenever she tells him he's cute or funny or special he mumbles incoherently or says, "So are you". She wants to tell him that that isn't the point. More than anything, she wants him to believe her.

"Well, after you said you like me because I'm not normal, who could blame me for wondering what other delightful flattery you have up your sleeve," he answers lightly.

Tonks chucks a cushion at him. "Your card,"

He plays the nine of spades. She plays the ten of hearts. Him- six of diamonds. Her- five of diamonds.

"Oh alright, we'll go on a proper date soon," he says suddenly, dropping the ace of hearts onto the pile.

Tonks' head snaps up. "Seriously?"

"Why not? A quick drink or something,"

"This a sudden change of heart," she notes, suspicious.

Remus shrugs.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, I'd love to," she says, trying not to sound overly excited. She doesn't pay attention to the card she's playing until Remus whacks his wand on it and the pile explodes.

"Snap!" he yells triumphantly.

"Oh my God, you did that on purpose!"

He bats his eyes innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

Sometimes he's so difficult to work out. One minute he'll be all serious and resigned, the next he'll be messing with her to cheat at cards.

"You distracted me! Oh, we are _so_ going on a date now,"

"Of course we are. You didn't think I was lying about that, did you?"

"Well if you're going to cheat at cards I'm going to choose where we're going,"

"That wasn't cheating. Have you ever played with Molly, she's the real cheat. And if you're choosing does that mean we'll end up at some Godawful music concert in a sewer?"

"What kind of gigs do you go to if they're in a _sewer_?"

She knows that he hasn't actually been to a concert in years because he can't afford it. She also knows that no way is she going to take him to a Weird Sisters or Howling Banshees gig. She wants him to meet her friends but if they all went to a concert he'd be moaning about the noise, smells and darkness and her friends would think he was a right old man. One day she'll take him to the Barbican or the Stoller Hall to watch an orchestra or a jazz band. He'd like that.

"I meant your concerts; the _sweat_ in those places," Remus shudders.

"You seem to know a lot about it. Something you're not telling me?"

"I've read a book or two on the subject,"

"What if we go on a date to a library? Get the romance going by not speaking to each other," Tonks suggests.

"Not talking? You'd barely last five minutes,"

"Hmph, you've clearly never done Stealth & Tracking training with Moody. Eight hours doing silent observation, I thought I was going to _die,"_

 _"_ Ah, that's why you nearly failed,"

"Well, one of many reasons. It was a difficult three months. Thanks, by the way," she says, suddenly serious, "For saying we'll go out together. I'm- I'm looking forward to it,"

It'll be nice to get out of the house and go somewhere together. Almost like being ordinary. She'll have to morph, and there's the money issue, and he'll probably be jittery the whole time about being seen. But she won't mind because it's him and it's them; this complicated thing that's only been going three weeks but which already feels so inexplicably right.

"That's quite alright," he smiles again, looking a bit shy, but pleased, "So am I. Now, loser's turn to deal, I believe".

And he hands her the pack of cards.


	18. Inside-Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion piece to the previous chapter, and is set a few weeks later.

Outside Number 12 Grimmauld Place, this whole thing is making Remus feel calmer than he has in years. The first few weeks of being with Tonks were thrilling and nerve-wracking and, well, amazing. The idea that she liked him was bafflingly wonderful and he'd had to get used to being touched and spoken to that way, to letting his guard down and having fun with her. For months he'd forced himself not to stare at her too long or laugh too hard at her silliness, so being able to do so when they were alone together was strange and lovely. It had been like finding a type of chocolate he'd liked as a child that he hadn't tasted again for years. But they're a few weeks in now and the initial exhilaration's worn off, making way for a sense of overall calm. Remus' worries don't seem as important when he's with Tonks, and he's sure he can take them on if she's beside him. When she touches him his body stills, his breath levels. He astonishes himself at the things he talks to her about; stuff he hasn't spoken of in years is suddenly easy to say if she's the one listening. She makes him feel happy and comfortable and  _safe._

Inside Grimmauld Place everything is different. At Grimmauld place he feels giddy with lust and happiness. In Order meetings he's sometimes so pre-occupied daydreaming about her that he loses track of the conversation and jumps when Mad-Eye barks, "Lupin, what do you reckon?". Sirius smirks and mocks him about it later, but he's hardly embarrassed by Sirius' teasing anymore. Padfoot was right- Tonks  _did_ like him, she  _does._  What an astounding turn of events, Remus grins to himself, and Sirius cackles and makes a crack about how he knew that all Moony needed was to get laid.

Outside Grimmauld he likes to think of their relationship as an intellectual one- yes, they kiss and hug and hold hands, but they spend more time talking, sharing anecdotes and making each other laugh. He reads her parts of books he's found interesting or funny; she tells him silly stories from her work and Diagon Alley. Outside headquarters Remus is militant about not being seen together. They've been out on dates a few times but he insists that Tonks morphs when they do, and the whole time they're out he's on the lookout for anybody who might recognise him. He much prefers spending time in together. Less worrying for him, much safer for her. He doesn't want it secret exactly, but…private. Tonks grumbled at first but she grudgingly goes along with it now- except in Grimmauld where she seems to want to get caught and, bizarrely, Remus enjoys that risk too. Inside 12 Grimmauld Place it's all physical; hands and mouths and necks, fumbling with each other's clothes and pushing one another against the wall. Inside the house all his pleas for discretion go out of the window. Remus is half-convinced that she's slipped Essence of Insanity into his drink because there's no other explanation for why he feels like this, why being found in the library with a girl on his lap seems exciting and sexy. Tonks, naturally, is all too aware of this and plays up to it in that show-off way she has. Most of the Order hug each other hello these days, and when Tonks hugs him she'll stroke a finger down his spine, nip at his ear or whisper that she's been thinking about him  _all day._ If she's sitting on the other side of the table to him at a meeting Tonks will start tapping his toes with her shoe and then run her foot up his calf. When she sits beside him he finds himself holding her hand under the table. Sometimes her fingers doodle patterns on his thigh. If they're alone in the kitchen she'll mutter, "Hold still" and then run her hands over his shoulders, chest and back, mumbling that she needs to be touching him. Remus gropes her in return, knowing in the back of his mind how it'll look if somebody walked in on a werewolf with his hands all over a woman a decade and a half younger. If they were outside Grimmauld the thought would make him panicky, sickened even, but in here he doesn't care. A couple of times he's found a note in his pocket saying,  _Meet me in the study. 10 mins_. When he gets there Tonks grabs his lapels and bundles him against the doorframe to snog. The study was gifted, if that's the right word, to them by Sirius. He's the only person whose caught them so far, and Remus isn't sure that Padfoot actually counts considering he's egged them both on from the start, and he can't leave the house.

Outside headquarters Remus' lust for her feels unclean to the point of perverted, and he's nervous at the thought of sex. The times he's done it before (though not for years now) it's been nice at the time but afterwards he's felt confused and ashamed. He's spent most of his adult life disgusted by the carnal, the animal. He's always tried to be more of a human than that, but the trouble is he's a man as well and of course he thinks about it, he wants it…and then he feels revolted at himself, and it's worse with Tonks being so much younger, and the truth is that the last few weeks have been so fantastic and he's scared that if they start doing anything more Tonks suddenly going to fully realise what he is and she's going not to want anything to do with him anymore, and who could blame her? Inside Grimmauld he none of that matters. She's so hot when she laughs, or when she's concentrating, when she teases people or when she's chattering excitedly. She's bonkers and alive and incredible. Why on earth is he denying himself her? Tonks has always worn tight t-shirts and short skirts although they seem to make more appearances at Order meetings these days, in what Remus suspects is an attempt to fluster him. When they're kissing and she puts his hands on her chest or hips he finds it hard to refuse, and sometimes he finds himself pulling at her clothes himself. When Tonks mumbles, "Is this okay?" before slipping her fingers underneath his shirt or into his back pocket he hears himself murmur in agreement. Once or twice recently Remus has had her backed up against the desk and Tonks has bitten her lip, gazed up at him with eyes she's morphed huge, whipped her t-shirt off and tossed it into the corner. His heart hammers and he feels hot all over and God, she is so beautiful. Wedged between him and the desk with so much skin on show for him to touch, lick, stroke, kiss. A ludicrously colourful bra. A wicked grin on her lips. In those moments and plenty more Remus has considered biting the bullet and asking her, "Look, shall we just get on with it right here?". That's why Sirius gave them the study after all. And Remus is sure that he'd feel less apprehensive about sex in there than he would at home or in her flat. But he wants to make their first time right for her and he's sure that having sex on a dead man's office floor, surrounded by dusty heirlooms belonging to the family that disowned her mother, doesn't count as 'right'.

Outside Grimmauld he's embarrassed by how much older than Tonks he is and how even older than that he looks. Inside the house he feels younger than he has in years. It's like being sixteen and in the first flush of romance. She makes the decrepit house seem bright, and not just because of her ridiculous hair. Sometimes she'll completely pull the rug out from under him and instead of a frenzied snog and squeeze she'll want to corner him alone to hug him and burrow her face into his jumper.

"Everything alright?" he asks, because it's not like her to be clingy.

"Yeah," she'll reply into his chest, exhaling contently. Remus kisses her forehead and holds her against him, until there's a squeak outside the door and he reluctantly lets her go, asking himself why getting caught like this seems worse than getting caught snogging. Perhaps he suspects that if someone walked in on him holding her tenderly like this, they'd have questions, whereas if someone walked in on them when his tongue was down her throat, their interrupter would shut the door quietly and scurry away with a red face.

For weeks, outside Grimmauld Place Remus asked himself what someone like her- brilliant and bright and with so much in her future- was doing with someone like him; jaded, penniless and cursed. Tonks tells him that he isn't those things; she likes to sift her fingers through his hair and murmur words so kind and generous that Remus can't look at her. She must have fixed his face to a perfect imaginary boyfriend because the things she says cannot be true if they're about him. In Grimmauld, none of the hows and why-nots and when-is-she-going-to-realise matter. Tonks _has_  chosen him and in Grimmauld Remus lets himself believe the things she says. He believes he's worthy of her words and praise, her time and attention. Her love. And the amazing, intoxicating trouble, the kind of trouble that only this remarkable girl with pink hair and dark eyes could get him into, is that outside the house he's starting to believe it too.


	19. Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after HBP Ch29 The Phoenix Lament.

Dumbledore is dead. Dumbledore is dead. She should be thinking about this, because Dumbledore is dead and a world without him is a chaotic and dangerous one. It is unprecedented. What are the Order without Dumbledore? Dumbledore is dead.

She should be thinking about Harry. How Harry watched him die. How Harry has lost yet another father figure. How scared and bewildered Harry must have been. How the Order had failed yet again to protect him. They couldn't defend him when Dumbledore was alive and was with him, so what chance do they have now? He's determined and fierce and he knows that it's his neck on the line, but he's sixteen years old. And now he's been left with whatever information Dumbledore gave him to use to defeat the darkest wizard of all time.

Tonks should be thinking about the battle on the tower. Curses everywhere, Amycus Carrow taunting Ginny, the terror on Ron's face, Snape charging past them all, the killing curse missing Remus by an inch, the crampedness of the stairwell and the sweat, yelping and swearing as curses flashed through the dark.

She should be thinking about how much Harry's friends risk for him. These teenagers are incredible. Ginny dodging the Carrow curses again and again- she must have been exhausted but she was fighting for her life.

She should be thinking about Remus and how embarrassed he must be by her shouting like that in front of everybody. It was selfish and rude and unnecessary, and humiliated them both. He always hated people knowing about them and now she'd blurted it out in front of the kids and flipping Professor McGonagall, over Bill's sickbed of all places. Remus is going to be so cross with her. He's going to think she's even more of a child than he does already.

She should be thinking of handsome and brave Bill; captain of the crew of Weasley boys, Egyptian curse-breaker, Charlie's cool big brother who got Head Boy. She should be thinking of him twitching on the floor while Greyback clawed at him, blood on both their faces. And in the hospital wing, looking gaunt and frail. Madam Pomfrey had done her best to heal his injuries but there's going to be bad scarring.

She should be thinking about Molly and Arthur, who have been so kind to her the last few months. Disasters have happened to their children again and again- Ginny and the Chamber, Ron being poisoned and now Bill, on top of Arthur being bitten by the snake last year.

She should be thinking about Fleur, who didn't care about werewolf bites either. ("Contamination", Remus had called it, as if it was medical and not a violent attack. As if being a werewolf makes him dirty and poisonous). Fleur had snapped at Mrs Wealsey and taken the ointment and insisted that Bill's scars were a mark of bravery. She had snarled that she was beautiful enough for both of them and that it was a good job Bill was marrying a Frenchwoman because they're better at cooking rare meat than the English. It was difficult to tell if she was joking about these, although Tonks doubts it. Fleur isn't much of a joker and the moment had been filled with pride and devotion.

She should be thinking of Bill and she is, sort of. She's thinking about his bloodied face and his scars and how he lay still and battered in his hospital bed. She's thinking about how if a non-transformed werewolf can that to a man in his twenties, what an Earth could the real thing do to a four-year-old boy? Did kid that age understand of what was happening or was it only pain and terror? What was the bleeding and scaring like on a body of that size? How had they healed? And how could anybody,  _anybody_ do that to a child? Remus' scar is a mark not of his bravery but of Greyback's hatred and revenge. How had Remus managed months of living the same space as the man- the animal- who had done that to him? Bitten him as a tiny child and given his this curse which has ruined his life? Tonks has never wanted to be with him more. She needs to be holding him tight in her arms, and if he doesn't want her anymore then she doesn't care-  _somebody_  needs to protect and care for and love him.

He was four.

Until this moment, Tonks realises, she did not truly understand what evil was.


	20. The Doorbell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set a couple of days after Deathly Hallows Ch11, The Bribe.

The last few days of July were hot. Rooftops and tarmac were scorching and windows were propped open even at night. At the Burrow everybody agreed that it was perfect weather for a wedding and hadn't Bill and Fleur been lucky.

The heatwave has broken now. It's raining as Remus trudges up the street towards the house belonging to his parents-in-law. He's only been here a few times before - his first visit was a month ago. He and Tonks had agreed that she'd tell her parents about their engagement on her own, and he would visit the next evening for dinner. Remus had remembered James telling him about his first meeting with the Evanses, and he'd thought that surely meeting Dora's parents couldn't be worse than that? And, miraculously, it hadn't been. Andromeda made no effort to hide her distrust of Remus, and Ted had eyed his clothes disapprovingly (Remus had worn his best tie and least moth-eaten jumper, but his attire still screamed 'man who your daughter will spend the rest of her life supporting because he can't hold down a job'). He'd wanted to apologise and assure them that he had done everything he could to make their daughter fall out of love with him, that he'd tried to shut down the same feelings in himself, but neither had worked. He'd wanted to explain that he's got a routine for the full moon and wouldn't be anywhere near her. He wanted to swear that he isn't the type of man they doubtless believe he is; he isn't violent, he doesn't live like an animal and he'll kill himself before he lays a finger on her. Remus hadn't said any of that of course. He'd thanked Tonks' parents for dinner about a hundred times and tried not to wince at his own bland remarks about the weather. When they'd left (Ted had shaken his hand, which was a shock but one that Remus was quite proud of), Dora had breathed a long sigh of relief and hugged him tightly.

...no chance of a hug, a handshake or any relief today, Remus thinks drily as the house becomes closer. Theirs is number forty-six. When he was a boy Remus had liked to remember the numbers of all the houses he'd lived in, although by the time he was ten there were too many to keep a track of. Is that what life is going to be like for his child?

Fifty-two. Fifty. Forty-eight. He pushes open the green gate (Dora had once told him that her mother had painted it) and walks up the path. Their front door looms. He steps onto the porch, reaches for the doorbell, then retracts his arm. Shoves his hand in his overcoat pocket. Grimaces at himself. Harry was right, he is a coward. Remus screws his eyes shut, takes a deep breath and forces himself to reach about again and punch the doorbell with his thumb. It is hard and cold. He hears the bell chime inside the house. No going back now. He's hardly thought about what he's going to say or do. Beg, probably. His stupid heart hammers under his jumper. Remus opens his eyes. The door takes forever too open and the door opens far too quickly. When it does, Andromeda's face meets him. The face then curls into a glare. Beautifully terrifying, like her big sister. There's an excruciatingly long pause while the drizzle patters down. Then Andromeda says, "What scarf was my husband wearing the day we met?"

It's an intentionally hard question. Remus thinks for a moment, then states, "Ballycastle Bats v Wigtown Wanderers, Four Nations Final 1982,"

Andromeda nods curtly, satisfied with the answer. It's the only thing she is satisfied about.

"Remus," she says coldly.

"Hello, Andromeda". It's a good job that she's not the type of woman mollified by smiles because Remus can't muster one.

"Mum?" calls a voice, "Whose there? Have you checked them, I don't-" the words die in Tonks' mouth as she stumbles into the hallway. Remus' heart stops pounding and performs a horribly wonderful flip-clench-spasm-skip-lurch manoeuvre. Her hair's shoulder-length and green, she's wearing her rip-kneed black jeans and her navy tailcoat, and is it his imagination or does she look paler than usual? If she does, if she's pale or ill or tired it's all his fault. All of this is his fault.

This pause isn't as long as the previous one, which surprises him. Then Tonks says, "You look like shit,"

"I know," Remus manages to respond, voice rasping.

Dora looks him in the eye for a painful moment, then says, "Mum, I'm going out,"

"Nymphadora-" Andromeda protests, but Tonks cuts across her.

"I'll be back later,"

She jams her feet into her Converse (they were originally white but she's doodled on them so much over the years that they're now a blur of variously coloured inks), grabs the red cagoule that's hanging on the bannister and wrestles it on over her tailcoat, and marches out of the house without a backward glance. She swerves around Remus as she passes to avoid touching him. He grimaces and watches as Dora strides down the garden path and out of the gate. Remus isn't sure what he's supposed to do, but Tonks swings around snaps, "Come on".

Oh, he's supposed to follow. Remus hurries down the path and trots behind his wife as she keeps walking, out of the gate and out onto the pavement. Tonks steps in a puddle and the muddy water splashes around them both. After dinner with her parents that first time he'd offered her his arm as they walked back down here(she'd rolled her eyes at his old-fashioned manners but linked her arm through the crook of his anyway). It seems a universe away. Gingerly, Remus speeds up so that he's walking on a level with Tonks, and he's grateful that she doesn't look at him.

But she starts to talk. "When we were first together," Dora says thoughtfully, "I thought you were perfect. I really did. I know nobody's supposed to be perfect but I thought you were the exception,"

Rain pitters. Tonks snorts mirthlessly and continues, "I was an idiot. You were too good to be true. But I'm not going to scream and shout at you, because that's what you want, isn't it? You want me to tell you that you're a worthless excuse of a man and I hate you, so that you can go away forever and wallow in your worthlessness and how much I hate you. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction. I love you. I love so bloody much that it hurts. Okay, now you talk," she orders.

Usually Remus would digest everything she's said before replying, but this time he blurts, "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I panicked, but I'm back now, I promise. And I'm in this a hundred percent if you still want me to be,"

"Don't do that. Don't give me that 'if you want me to be' self-pity. Don't put this in my hands. Of course I want you to be. That's not the point. This is on you. How can I trust you? How do I know you're not going to do this the next time you panic?". Her voice is sharper than he's ever heard it, and her fingers sketch quotation marks around the last word.

"I swear to you-"

"On what, Remus? What's left for you to swear on? Your life? You risked that running away from us to spy on Greyback, you risk it all the time. Our marriage? Oh right, the marriage that you wrote in your note was a 'grave mistake'. Our baby? You abandoned our baby. How the hell am I supposed to believe you?"

He takes a breath. "Sirius. I swear to you on Sirius,"

"For Merlin's sake, it's not about finding something to swear on! It's not about your oaths and your apologies and your pretty words and your obsession with proving to everybody how little you deserve,"

She always gets to the point, even when she's angry. How could he have hurt her like this again? How could he have ruined this so badly?

Remus wracks his brain for some kind of explanation, and settles on telling her, "I went to see Harry. The three of them got out of the wedding and they're- well, I won't tell you where they are in case we get questioned. They're undertaking a mission for Dumbledore as we thought. Harry wouldn't tell me what it was but I offered them my help," he pauses, wondering how to verbalise what happened next. He should tell her the truth but he isn't sure he can. He hadn't realised Harry was so astute- he's clearly been underestimating everybody. Remus Lupin is the idiot after all.

"Harry refused. He- he was angry at me, furious. He told me that his father would want me to stay with my own child,"

Dora meets his eye. "So you're back because Harry Potter told you to be?"

"Tonks," he groans. The rain is bouncing off his shoulders.

"Think for yourself for once," she spits, and she stops walking and wheels round to face him, "What do you want? Not what you think you should do, or what Harry says, or what any of our dead friends would tell you to do. You. What do you want?"

Remus thinks. He remembers Harry's face, twisted with hurt, rage and indigence. He remembers that face when that face was a year old, a week old, a happy baby. He'd giggled and wriggled; Remus had liked touching his tiny fingers and chubby fists, and then he'd met him on the train all those years later, still a boy then but a man now. He'd been so angry. Remus thinks of his twelve wilderness years taking awful jobs and living in damp, dilapidated houses he'd had to hold up with magic. Of being so lonely and feeling such a waste. Colleagues came and went, and he didn't like to impinge his reputation on his family too often; books were his only constant. He remembers the moment before he kissed Tonks for the first time, realising what was about to happen and knowing he should be scared, but then her lips touched his and it felt comfortable and exciting and like home. She was thrilled when she told him she was pregnant and her face crumpled when he didn't return her joy.

He remembers the werewolf camp and the men and women whom Greyback had raised after biting them. They were so aggressive even in amongst their werewolf family, bubbling with resentment, not for the man who had bitten them but for the world he'd convinced them that they didn't belong to. If it hadn't been for Mam and Dad, Remus would have had that rage too. Mam and Dad could have abandoned him, they could have smothered him in his sleep after he was bitten. It would have made life easier for them. Spared them all from this pain. But they didn't. They loved him and cared for him, like Tonks does. Mam got tired and ill, Dad was twitchy about people finding out. They had thought it was worth it. He was worth it. They wanted to give him a chance at happiness. Dora makes him so incredibly happy and alive that it astonishes him...but could the baby? What if the baby's like him (he's sure it'll be like him) and he and Dora aren't as strong as Mam and Dad- what if they argue? They've argued plenty since they got married, and before. It wouldn't be fair for the child to grow up like that, on top of the fact that the child will be a werewolf. How on earth could he have done this to an innocent? He's spent his whole life terrified of biting someone and now he's done something even worse.

Remus thinks of Dolores Umbridge's laws, and the names Sirius used about her to cheer him up. He remembers late nights with Sirius in their school dormitory, hooting with cackles about what the Blacks would say if they knew that Sirius' best friend was a werewolf. If Sirius was here now he'd be- no. Dora told him not to think of what anybody else would say. This is on him. What do you want? This is not black or white, there is no right choice to be made. Perhaps that's why he panicked; he likes having rules and Right Choices. But this time there is only his choice, what he wants. And suddenly Remus knows that in spite of everything, he wants this child and this family. This. This life. This joy.

"I want this. I want us". His voice sounds hoarse.

"Are you sure?" Dora demands, "Because you were sure at our wedding,"

"Yes. Yes, I am sure," Remus says, and as the words come out of his mouth he believes it. He looks here in the eye. "I've been a terrible husband and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you and to the baby, I don't care if it's a werewolf or a Squib or an elephant,"

"I don't think our baby's an elephant," she says, and she's smirking, and he risks a smile back.

"I'm sorry for everything, not just for leaving but for how moody and miserable I was before. I'm done with that now. All I've ever wanted is to do right by you, and I thought that that's what I was doing, but I was wrong,"

"Again. Twice you've done this to me now," Dora points out, and her voice is now more hurt than accusatory. The rain's plastering her hair to her face and shoulders.

"I know. All I can tell you is that it won't be three. Pushing you away or running off isn't doing right by you and I know that now. It makes everything worse because-" he cuts himself off, unable to finish the sentence. Can he even believe it's true after all this?

"Say it. You know it's true so say it," Tonks orders, as if reading his mind.

Remus forces the words out hurriedly: "It makes everything worse because you love me,"

"Yeah I do, do you know how much it hurts when you act like you don't believe it or that it isn't enough? Like my feelings for you aren't as important. You have no idea how patronising that is,"

"I'm sorry. You're right, I don't have any idea so I should start listening to you more,"

"You should start believing me more,"

Remus starts to tell her that he'll try but before he can she bursts out, "My parents were tortured! Death Eaters put the Cruciatus on my parents and the next day you take off claiming it's you whose putting me in danger?!". She laughs. He tries not to notice that it's the same hysterical laugh as her aunt Bellatrix. "Could you be any more self-centred?!"

Remus doesn't know what to say to that, but fortunately he doesn't have to because Tonks continues, "Is this why you didn't want a wedding ring, because you had it in the back of your mind that you'd bail if things didn't go your way? You disappeared in the night leaving a note! Who knew you were such a drama queen? You have no idea how humiliating that was be for me, how much it was for Mum and Dad to deal with after they were tortured. Didn't you think they hated you enough?"

It's true, it's all true, and that makes it hurt more. Remus lets her words crash over him. "And if it is a werewolf," she says witheringly, "Did you honestly believe that you were doing me a favour by leaving me to deal with it on my own? Were you going to wash your hands of us completely or would it get a birthday card and a sickle every year? Lucky bloody kid,"

It sounds so stupid when she puts it like that. She always talks sense- why hadn't he listened before? Why hadn't he asked her?

Then Dora says in a quieter voice, "I said I wasn't going to shout and scream and tell you that you're awful,"

"No. Well. I suppose I'm an easy target," he mutters. Water's seeping in through the soles of his shoes, dampening his toes.

"Yeah, you bloody are," Tonks growls. She turns away, rakes a hand through her green hair. Remus suspects that she's crying, and it hurts that she doesn't want him to see. But when she turns back there's no trace of tears.

"Look, let's go home, let's not make a spectacle of ourselves in public again. I wasn't kidding when I said you look shit. You need a cup of tea and a bath". She does not say this kindly. "I'll go back to Mum and Dad's to tell them we're going and to make sure they'll be alright without me. You can wait at the end of the street," Dora tells him.

"Thank you," he acknowledges. Sparing him from the wrath of his parents-in-law a small mercy, although Remus doubts that she's acting out of kindness towards him.

Tonks looks at him with narrowed eyes as if considering snapping something, but seems to decide against it. She turns away and marches back through the rain towards the house. Remus looks down at his battered, soggy shoes. But out of the corner of his eye he seems Dora turn back, just for a moment, to glance at him. He'd like to think that it's because she's missed him and once to steal another look. Although realistically, he winces to himself, Tonks is looking back to check that he hasn't gone away again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This chapter was a challenge to write so I'd be interested to know what you thought of it. If you have time, a comment or two would be much appreciated.


	21. Necessary Prodding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much like everybody’s favourite fugitive godfather, this chapter has been waiting a while to see the light. It’s set during OotP, a few days after the “If you weren’t too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice” incident as described by JKR on Lupin’s Pottermore bio. Here’s your warning for mentions of sex and kinks, but nothing explicit.

Sirius spent a large proportion of his childhood and school years being cornered. As a result he’d got pretty good at cornering people himself, and Remus had always been one of his favourite corner-ees.

“Tonks is looking for you," he announced, shutting the kitchen door behind them both and leaning on it to trap Remus in.

Moony jumped, smacked his head on the cupboard he was looking into, muttered “Bugger!”, and turned to face him.

“My cousin’s after you and she’s pretty pissed,” Sirius re-iterated.

“Drunk pissed or angry pissed?” Lupin asked, scowling as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Angry. Well, maybe drunk as well, but mostly angry,”

“Right,”

“So I suppose you’ll be planning on jumping back into that cupboard to hide. What went on between you two?"

"I don't know what you're taking about,” said Remus shiftily. He’d always been a bad liar.

"I thought you two were _finally_ getting somewhere, but something happened that night at the Averys’ and now you're avoiding her like dragon pox,"

"Nothing happened, Sirius,”

“You got going and shot your load too quick, is that it?"

Remus had never had time for crass humour and pulled a _do-you-have-to_ face at Sirius.

“No, that’s _not_ it. There’s nothing to tell,” he said loftily.

"Then why are you determined not to see her?” Sirius persisted, “You still fancy her, don't you?"

Moony appeared to suddenly remember something important in the breadbin and busied himself looking in there. Sirius watched him for a few amused seconds, then continued, “She’s an Auror, she can make herself look as hot as she- or more to the point, you- want, and she’s thirteen years younger than you. Most men would wank themselves blind wanting a girl like that,”

Lupin put the lid back on the breadbin. "Don't talk about her like that,”

"Ooh, defending her honour?" Sirius smirked, pleased that he’d ruffled Moony’s feathers.

"No, I...it isn't like that," he muttered.

"What is it like, then?" Sirius demanded, pinning Remus with a stare.

Lupin sighed. "It's like an old man doing right by a girl who will one day be relieved that she had a lucky escape,"

"Bollocks. She doesn't want a lucky escape, she wants _you,"_

Moony muttered something unintelligible.

"Go on, just tell me what you said," Sirius pleaded. He didn’t suppose that Moony would tell him, but his old friend was fun to needle, and it was hardly as if Sirius had anything else to be doing.

Remus cocked an eyebrow. "Why d'you assume it was me who said it?"

"Oh, _she_ said something that spooked you? Yes she has got quite a gob on her doesn't she, a gob I imagine you've thought about positioned in a variety of places,”

“She’s your _cousin,_ Padfoot,” Remus shot back sniffily, “More like your niece, really. Andromeda would have your guts if she knew you talked about her like that,”

“I’m just voicing thoughts we all know you’ve had, so it’s _your_ guts she’ll be after,” Sirius pointed out, “So what are you going to do about it? You can't dodge Tonks forever, especially not if I have anything to say about it"

"For Merlin's sake, will you _let this go,"_

"No.  You're my best friend and you're arse over broomstick for her. She’s my cousin and she reckons you’re the best thing since chocolate frogs. And whatever you’ve told yourself, turning her down wasn't doing right by her or by yourself either. So will it kill you to stop being such a flipping martyr for five minutes?”

“I’m not trying to be a martyr,”

“A masochist, then? Has all that chaining yourself up during the full moon given you a kink?”

“Sirius-“

“Is _that_ what you told Tonks at the Averys’? You asked her to whip the old wolf and she wasn’t into it? Strange, I always suspected _she_ might have a few interesting predilections up her sleeves,” Sirius taunted gleefully.

“That isn’t what happened at the Averys’ and if you tell her that I will lock you in a room with your mother’s portrait for the next year,”

“Locking me up now too? My my, Moony,”

“Sometimes I wonder why I missed you all these years,” Remus growled.

But all the talk of locks reminded Sirius of his own present state of house-arrest. “Still, I suppose it’s not much different to how things are at the moment. I’m locked in the _house_ with her and Kreacher, even if not the same room,”

“I know. I know you’re bored, I understand that, and you’ve done really well so far,” said Lupin patiently, then added in a falsely optimistic tone, “It can’t be more much longer, surely,”

“Don’t give me hope, Remus,” Sirius groaned, “None of us know how long this torture’s going to go on for. Which I suppose you’ve thought about saying to Tonks,”

Moony’s eye-roll was interrupted by a knock at the door. They looked at each other. Sirius’ face split back into a grin. _Please, please let this be Tonks,_ he prayed.

“Hello?” asked a familiar female voice, “Can I come in?”

The voice wasn’t Tonks’. But if she was the last person in the world Remus would want to be caught with discussing bondage, this must have been the second-to-last.

“Of course, Professor,” beamed Sirius, leaping away from the door to let Minerva McGonagall through.

Remus cringed. “Hello, Professor,”

“Lupin, Black,” greeted McGonagall curtly, “Is Podmore around? There’s something urgent I need to pass on. I need to be back at Hogwarts in an hour,”

“He left about ten minutes ago,” Moony said quickly. Sirius assumed this was true, although he himself had no idea. He’d all but stopped caring who was coming and going from this damn house.

“Right. Thank you, Lupin. Good afternoon to you both,” Professor McGonagall said, and turned to leave.

Sirius threw Moony an evil smile. Remus grimaced. Sirius waited until Professor McGonagall had opened the door and had half a foot in the hall before piping up, “Professor,”

“Black,” answered Professor McGonagall, in the same trying-not-to-sound-exasperated-already tone all three of them were familiar with from school.

“Have you seen Tonks around? Remus and I were just discussing-“ Sirius began to ask, but was cut off by the sudden feeling of an arm hooking around his neck and his body being dragged backwards.

“Nothing, Professor, nothing to worry about,” Moony said pleasantly, shoving his hand over Sirius’ mouth as he bundled him into the kitchen, “Good afternoon,”

Sirius flailed in Remus’ grip, trying to twist out from under his arm. He stuck his tongue out and licked Moony’s hand, but Lupin was unperturbed and kept a tight hold on him.

Professor McGonagall looked nonplussed but unsurprised, and in the second before she left Sirius was sure that he heard her mutter, “They never change”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this silly chapter. Please comment to let me know what you thought.


	22. &

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the Summer hols at the start of HBP.

Molly Weasley's youngest son clattered downstairs and into the kitchen, clutching a stack of dirty plates and a mug.

"Right, that's all of it," he huffed, dumping the crockery in the sink and twisting the tap on.

"That's half the kitchen you've had squirreled away up there," Molly grumbled. Ron was almost as slobby as Charlie had been as a teenager, hoarding plates and glasses in his bedroom for weeks.

"I know, I know," Ron mumbled, hastily scrubbing the toast crumbs and solidified butter off the plates.

"Tonks and Kinglsey are coming home with your father after work so we're going to need those extra plates to-"

"Mum, I know what you're trying to do," said Ron, glancing round to pin her with a look, which was rather shrewder than his usual expression.

Molly wasn't sure what he meant and replied in what she hoped was a cool tone, "And what is it I'm trying to do?"

"Mum. Come on. It's obvious,"

"If it's so obvious then spit it out,"

"You're trying to set Bill up with Tonks, and it isn't going to work so why don't you just drop it?"

Molly stared at him. What on earth was he talking about? "Where did you possibly get that idea?"

"You keep inviting her over. It's pretty blatant," Ron informed her, with the pitying superiority only displayed by sixteen-year-olds, "Bill's not interested so you might as well stop dangling Tonks in front of his nose and accept that he's going to marry Fleur,"

Anger flared in Molly. What kind of assumptions was he coming up with and why in Merlin's name did he think _that?_

"Listen to me, Ron," she ordered, "I have no intention of setting Bill up with Tonks. I don't know where you got the impression that that's why I've been inviting her over, but you need to forget it. Understand?"

Ron balked in the perplexed way he often did when Molly snapped at him. Then he stammered, "So- so why do you keep having her over? I mean, she's nice and everything but she's a bit of a downer at the moment,"

"And don't you think that's why?" Molly demanded, "Don't you think that given she's having a tough time she could do with some support?"

He's a sweet boy but emotional intelligence has never been his strong point. He's put two and two together and made seventeen.

"Oh," Ron mumbled. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but then shut is mouth.

"You might want to consider this a bit more sensitively before you start gossiping," Molly informed him.

"I do not _gossip,"_ Ron protested.

"It's time you stopped coming up with theories about who I'm trying to set up with whom, and showing a bit more sensitivity,"

Ron didn't say anything and turned back to his washing up. Molly watched him with a mild glare. Despite having raised five already, teenage boys were still a mystery. Molly was grateful that he had Hermione to keep him on his toes.

The back door clattered open and Bill strolled into the kitchen. Ron glanced round to check who it was and, seeing it was the person he'd just been discussing, fixed his eyes to the sink and started scrubbing his plates harder.

"Working like a house-elf there," Bill noted, "What's brought this on?"

"Mum," Ron muttered.

"Ah. Well, Harry and I have nearly finished de-gnoming outside so I thought I'd take Fleur on a walk into the village. Is she upstairs, Mum?"

Of course he wanted to go out with her; they spent all their time together. Bill was barely back from five years in Egypt, but it seemed he hadn't missed Molly half as much as she'd missed him.

"Mmm," Molly mumbled.

"Right, I'll find her then we'll be off. See you later," Bill announced. He leant over to ruffle Ron's hair and Ron elbowed him away. Bill chuckled and headed up the stairs.

"Make sure you're back for dinner," Molly called after him.

Bill leaned over the banister and told her, "It's alright, I've got that Muggle money saved upstairs so I'm taking Fleur out to the chip shop,"

It took a great deal of integrity for Molly not to roll her eyes. "Kingsley and Tonks are coming over, I think they'd like to see you," she said pointedly.

"Come off it, Mum -they've got better things to do than chat to me," Bill scoffed, "Anyway, I told Fleur that if she's going to move here she's got to try a proper English fish and chips. We'll be back before it's dark. Bye,"

And he bounded upstairs. Molly glanced over at Ron, still splashing plates around in the sink. In most ways her eldest and youngest son were very different- Bill was more studious, Ron more hot-headed. Bill was musical whereas Ron was good at wordplay. Ron was on the Quidditch team, Bill had got a silver medal in a translation competition. Bill wouldn't have got muddled about who was falling in love with each other...but right now, the way he was so attached to Fleur and brushing off everybody else, he wasn't being much more emotionally intelligent than his littlest brother.

"See," Molly heard herself say, "As if he's got eyes for anybody but her,"

"Alright, I get it, that's what _I_ said," Ron huffed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to snap". Molly found herself snapping a lot these days. Everything that was going on and how in the line of fire their family were should have made her kinder and more patient with her children, but in reality she'd become tense and waspish.

Ron shoved the cleaned plates onto the drying rack. Molly saw him glance at her as if considering whether he should ask her to dry them by magic or if he should do it by hand.

"I'll do it," she told him, feeling guilty, "You go outside with Harry,"

"Thanks, Mum," Ron grinned, and bolted towards the back door. Happy to be getting away from her, like Bill had been. When he got to the door he turned back and added loudly, half-irritated and half-joking, "And for the record, we will _not_ be gossiping!".


	23. ANX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in about November of DH. Warning for nightmariness.

Tonks knocks on the door of her childhood bedroom, and her husband says, “Come in”. Since Dad left Remus has been sleeping in her old bedroom, while she sleeps in bed with Mum. Andromeda put up a fight and tried to insist that she would be alright on her own but they all knew it was a lie, and Tonks didn’t want to leave her alone with her worries at night. Besides, there’s safety in numbers these days.

Tonks pushes the door open and walks in, then blinks at the neon walls. For her eighth birthday Dad decorated her room with magic paint which changed colour every day like her hair does. Remus’ clothes hang on a single rail in the corner (he insisted on letting her keep her wardrobe) and a few of his favourite books, the ones he hasn’t left behind in the flat, are stacked on the floor beside the bed. When he moved into her flat in July seeing his stuff beside hers seemed natural and exciting. It’s much weirder to see him living in her old bedroom. Not uncomfortable, just strange. It’s also strange to see him standing in his grey nightshirt and black bottoms against the bright orange wall. He’s facing away from her, leaning both hands on the windowsill as he looks out into the night. Tonks takes a moment to admire how he looks in his pyjamas, something she’s missed since they haven’t been sharing a bed. Most of all she misses how rumpledly sexy he is in the mornings.

“Remus?” she prompts, after a moment.

He glances round. “Hello,” he says distractedly. His smile is wan but it still makes her heart miss a beat.

"Wotcher. What's up?" she asks.

Remus eyes dart around the room for a couple of seconds, and then meet hers as he confesses, "I'm scared.”

Her heart droops. “Oh. Darling,”

He grimaces apologetically. Tonks knows that he isn’t ashamed of admitting fear, but he doesn’t like giving people more to worry about than he has to. She walks over to him, knocking over his stack of books as she passes the bed. She hugs her husband from behind, crossing her arms around his waist; he likes it when she does that. She likes making him feel safe. One of the good things to come out of this living arrangement is that Mum’s a great cook, so Remus has _finally_ put on some weight. He feels fuller around the middle and arms aren’t so skinny.

"We'll be alright," she says, and presses a kiss to the spot between his shoulder-blades. In a few weeks’ time when she holds him like this he’ll be able to feel the curve of her stomach where their child's growing.

"I'm scared they're going to come after me next," he whispers.

"Good luck to them if they do," Tonks scoffs, sounding braver than she feels, "They'll have to get past me first,"

"It'll be half-breeds after Muggle-borns,"

"I'll protect you,"

"What about the baby?"

"I'll protect the baby," she says, clicking her tongue, "Multi-tasking,"

Remus forces a laugh and Tonks squeezes him harder, pressing her face against his back. She can't protect him in her dreams. In her dreams he's torn away from her by Death Eaters and Tonks is frozen to the spot, only able to shout at the masked crowd to stay away from him, please don't hurt him. Bellatrix is cackling and Greyback is gnashing his teeth and the rest of them are jeering at Remus as they shove him and hit him and yank at the wolf tail that's growing out of his human back.

"Don't touch him," she pleads, "Leave him alone, hurt me instead, my father's a Muggle-born and my mother betrayed the Blacks!"

That turns out to be the worst thing to say because Remus has suddenly become her parents, who are writhing on the ground as Bellatrix dances around them and whooping hysterically as she twirls her wand.

"Mum! Dad!" Tonks tries to scream, but a child's voice comes out instead of her own, and she knows that it’s her baby screeching for her. The baby that is being ripped out of her stomach by Greyback.

"Mummy! Mummy!" the baby squeals, and Tonks is begging, screaming at the masked crowd.

"Not my baby! Please, please, I'll do whatever you want, do anything but please don't hurt the baby, NOT MY BABY!"

She wakes up then, panting and sweating, with Mum shaking her and grabbing her hands and saying, “It’s a dream Nymphadora, a dream. Look, I’m here, you’re with me,”

She clutches her stomach, “The baby?”

“The baby’s fine,”

Tonks had been so excited when she first found out, but as time’s gone on she isn’t sure that she likes being pregnant. Before, it was her who rubbed Remus’ back and massaged his knuckles and neck when he was achy. It was her and Dad who made jokes- Mum and Remus were the worriers. Jokes don't seem so funny nowadays. It was Remus who rested his head in her lap while she sifted her fingers through his hair. It used to be Mum who was the cantankerous one but now it's Tonks whose waspish and impatient. She's prone to tears a lot too, which only makes her more frustrated at herself. Mum and Remus think they need to look after her, and it makes her feel helpless and childlike. And guilty, because Mum shouldn’t be fussing over her when she’s got Dad to worry about. (The weeks since he went away are becoming months. They weren’t expecting to hear anything from him but it doesn’t lessen the anxiety).

“What about you? Are you alright?” Remus asks, back in the bedroom. He leans back against her a little, returning the pressure. There’s the example right there, Tonks notes- before she was pregnant it was always her who asked him that and assured him that everything was okay.

“Suppose so,” she mumbles. She doesn’t tell him about the nightmares because he knows already. She doesn’t tell him how redundant pregnancy is making her feel- she will, one day, although not now because she hasn’t worked out how to verbalise it yet, and because he’s already feeling scared.

“Perhaps you should go to bed,” Remus suggests after a pause, like _she’s_ the one who needs taking care of. A few months ago Tonks would have rolled her eyes or snapped at him for fussing, but she’s trying to do less of that these days. Remus turns around to face her and leans his back against the window sill. The smile he gives her is more amused and genuine this time.

“Desperate to get rid of me?” she needles him.

Remus lets out a chuckle and tilts forward to press his mouth to hers. His lips are always soft and his kisses, however they end up, always start lightly. Tonks expects this one to be a chaste goodnight kiss but he lingers, drapes an arm around her waist and pulses his mouth against hers.

Tonks pulls away, grinning. “So you _don’t_ want me to go to bed?”

His eyes are closed and his lips are half-open. “Maybe in five minutes,” he mumbles, and then his mouth finds hers again. He runs his lips over her jaw and cheek, up into her hair (blonde today), and his hands stroke her waist and stomach. Sometimes he presses his head against there to see if he can feel anything, but so far Tonks has only felt the baby lurch inside her a couple of times. Molly reckons that first babies are lazier than later ones, and that she could barely feel Bill until she was five months gone but Ron was shifting around all over the place after barely ten weeks.

Remus kisses her on the mouth again, slowly, and sucks on her bottom lip. This, Tonks muses as she wedges a leg between his, is definitely one thing that’s changed for the better. Remus is calmer about all this- kissing, being touched, intimacy, his body- nowadays than he’s ever been before. He seems to feel less guilt about it and that, she thinks selfishly, has made him a better kisser, a better lover, a better husband.

When Remus eventually lets her go with a final kiss to the temple, Tonks reaches a hand up to his hair, runs it through his curls and asks, “Feel less scared?”

His face darkens slightly. “Hmm,”

“Is that a no?”

“Yes,”

“I told you, I’ll protect you. Nobody’s going to mess with you once they know you’ve got a big bad Auror as your bodygaurd,”

“Hmm,” he says again. He sounds unconvinced but she lets it go and moves away from him. Remus climbs into her old bed and pulls the sparkly purple duvet cover up to his chest.

“I’ll be nextdoor if you need me” Tonks reminds him. She tells him that every night even though there’s no point- he doesn’t like to disturb either her or Mum during the night, and it’d take a lot for any man to want to sleep in the same room as his mother-in-law.

Remus catches her hand, presses it to his mouth and mutters, “I always need you,”

Merlin, was that a line? Remus Lupin using _lines?_ Has he been reading that book of Fred and George’s? Tonks could rib him with this, but he’s being sweet so she just scoffs, “Flattery will get you anywhere. G’night,”

“Night,”

She heads into the corridor, blows him a kiss, and shuts the door behind her. The white corridor walls seem bland all around. Tonks dismisses the thought as just the contrast from the neon orange. But perhaps, she realises, walking down the corridor towards her parents’ room, perhaps it seems bland because Remus isn’t out here with her.


	24. If You Happen To Be Rich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my opinion the end of HBP only makes sense if Lupin is back from Greyback’s camp before the battle on the Astronomy Tower takes place. I’ve headcannoned it that he comes back a few weeks before. This chapter is set during that period. Lots of angst and shouting in this one. I hope you enjoy.

_“Do you soberly relish the pleasure of being a poor man’s wife? Will you be able to see with perfect composure your old acquaintances flaunting it in gay life, tripping it along in splendour, while you hold a humble station? Can you cheerfully plant turnips with me, if fortune should so order it? If you cannot, my dear, we are playing a comedy of all in the wrong, and you should correct the mistake before we begin to act the tragedy of the unhappy couple,”_

-              Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, 1780

If You Happen To Be Rich

“I’ve got no money,” he told her, turning out his pockets to demonstrate, “Outside of Hogwarts the longest I’ve held down a job is eight months,”

“I don’t care about money,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You should do. Being poor isn’t Oliver Twist jolliness. It’s hard and it’s humiliating,”

“And I don’t know that? My mum was disowned, remember,”

“You’ve always had food on the table, new robes when you need them, enough money to buy decent Christmas presents,”

“So we can’t get back together because of _Christmas presents?”_

“That’s not what I meant. I mean that patching a jumper for the fourth time and being unable to go out with your friends because you can’t afford to buy yourself a Firewhiskey is _boring,_ and exhausting, and embarrassing. And I don’t want that for you,”

“What about what _I_ want? I don’t-“

“Care? Alright, now you don’t, but believe me one day you will,” he promised.

“Don’t tell me what I believe,” Tonks snapped.

“I speak from experience,”

“This happened a lot to you then, has it?” she taunted him, “Get a lot of girls wanting to love the werewolf?”

“No,” Remus said grimly, not rising to the bait.

“Then _why_ are you pushing me away? I thought now you’re back we might…”

“It’s for the best,”

“Look at me! Look at me now and tell me that this is what’s best for me!” she screeched, patting her skinny stomach and holding a up a lock of brown hair.

“Being cold, lonely and hungry, and constantly counting down the days until the full moon, is not what’s best for you,”

“Being with you is. It _was._ It was special, I know you felt it too, and-“

“Being with me comes with a scroll of conditions as long as your arm,”

“Yeah, and I’ve read them all. I know what I’m doing, what I’ll be giving up-“

“You,” he told her seriously, “Will not give up anything for me,”

Her laugh was mirthless, almost hysterical. “Merlin, you couldn’t be more sanctimonious if you tried,”

“I care about you so I have to put your best interests first. And if you refuse to think this through then I’ll have to,” he said. Stiff, solemn.

“Right, I’m some stupid kid who doesn’t understand what she’s getting herself into,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“It’s what you think,”

He looked at her seriously but avoided her eyes. “I think you are the most incredible person I have ever met”. Then he sighed and admitted, “But I also think you need to give it some more consideration,”

“How much more consideration does it _need?_ I love you and I want to be with you. Has it occurred to you that I’m an Auror, I can support us both,”

“I don’t want you to,” he muttered.

“So you’re going to tell me all out problems but not let me solve any? You’re going to expect me to take all your moral lectures but you’re not going to accept my money,”

“Spend your money on something worthwhile!” Lupin exclaimed, “A house or a car or your friends. Don’t waste it on me,”

“Is this about us or is it about your pride? Don’t want to be a kept man, is that it?”

“Alright, say, I agree to it. How long d’you reckon they’ll let you keep your job at the Auror office when they find out about me? People find out, they always do. Reckon that’ll go down well? Then what’ll we do for money?” he demanded.

“Plant turnips, clean toilets, perform magic at Muggle parties- anything,”

“You are brave, and clever, and cunning, and could beat most people in a duel. You are not spending your life cleaning toilets,”

“We’ll work something out,”

“You’re not listening,” he told her, “We-“

“I _have listened!_ Bought the record, been to the concert, got the t-shirt, know the words by heart. I’ve listen to every reason you’ve given why we shouldn’t be together, and all of those reasons put together aren’t stronger than the fact that I love you and you love me,”

For a long moment, the only sound was her loud breathing.

Then he turned away and said heavily, “I’m going to go now,”

She shouted, and the sound bounced off the wall around them both: “Fine, leave! And I hope you hear me ringing in your ears _all the way home!”_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your time. Musical theatre fans will recognise: 1- The title of this chapter from the song “Money” from Cabaret. That song, and “I Don’t Care” from the same musical were big inspirations for this chapter. 2- The reference in the letter quoted at the top. I recommend reading the full version of the letter (easy to find on Google), it is beautiful.


	25. The Thing Before The Thing

After an Order meeting Remus usually stays behind to chat to people, so this time Tonks makes sure to corner him in his chair before he has the chance to stand up.

“So, it’s you and me taking the kids back to school next week,” she announces.

“Yes,” he says looking up at her. Her hair’s ginger today, as it often is when she’s been hanging out with Ginny. Tonks seems to have semi-adopted Ginny as her little sister, which Remus reckons is nice of her since Ginny’s got many brothers, and Hermione, the only girl here her age, is usually off with Harry and Ron.

“I’m on lates at work so I’ll see you here about eight?”

He winces.

“What?” Tonks laughs, then cuts herself off abruptly, “It’s not a full moon, is it?”

No, it can’t be. Dumbledore and Kingsley _always_ let him have the days around the full moon off. They won’t have given this job to him if it is.

To her relief, Lupin smiles. “No, nothing that dramatic. I just don’t like early mornings,”

“Well, lucky you’ll be with a bunch of teenagers, then. I’ll be the only one of us properly awake,”

"Bye, you two," calls Daedalus on his way out of the door.

"See you," Tonks answers. It’s peculiar to be referred to as a "you two" with Remus. It’s nice.

The talk of early morning makes a memory pop into Remus’ head and he hears himself snort with laughter again. “Fred once told me that their Quidditch captain made them get up a six in the morning to practice,”

“Olly Wood? Yeah, he was always intense,” Tonks shrugs.

He balks at her, then remembers that she was at school with Wood, and the twins, and that she only missed Harry by a year. Remus suddenly feels uneasy and his eyes flick away from Tonks as he fiddles awkwardly with his collar

Tonks frowns, confused by his sudden shiftiness. Sometimes he tenses up like this but she can’t work out why. Is he uptight about something? Perhaps he’s tired- he’s often tired. She should ask Sirius about it. Tonks glances around for somebody else to pull into the conversation, but the kitchen’s emptied. Typical. Well, she resolves, she might as well plough onwards despite whatever Lupin is closing up about. Tonks slips into the chair beside him and announces, “Harry’s lot have got their OWLs next term,”

She perplexes him and she fascinates him. There he is, bristling with discomfort about how young she is, and she obviously doesn’t want to be around him when he’s being so strange and obtuse, especially since it probably seems to have come from nowhere- but now she’s sat down next to him and wants to keep talking. How strange. It’s no wonder he keeps thinking about her.

“Yes, and as their former teacher I’ll be sending them revision timetables and crib notes,”

“You know Hermione actually makes them revision timetables. Non-ironically,”

He chuckles, “That doesn’t surprise me,”

“A girl after your own heart,” Tonks says, then grimaces. That was a Freudian slip and a half. God, what a stupid thing to say about a sixteen-year-old. Lupin’s going to think she’s a proper weirdo now. Hurriedly, Tonks changes the subject. “Go on, then, what did you get?”

“In what?”

“OWLs,”

Remus feigns trying to remember for a moment, as if he can’t recite his results straight off. Then he wonders why he’s doing that. Why doesn’t he want her to know what he knows his OWLs?

“Four Os, four Es, two As,” he lists eventually, “You?”

“Six Os, two Es, a P and a T. So I win,” Tonks grins.

He can tell that she wants him to rise to it and he does.  “How? You failed two,”

“Yeah, History of Magic and Arithmancy. I knew I was going to fail History so I doodled all over the exam paper, didn’t even look at the questions,”

Remus shoots her a shrewd, thoughtful look. It’s not exactly kind and Tonks wonders what she’s said wrong.

“What?” she asks, confused. She’s not asking too many questions, is she? Is she irritating him? It’s alright when Sirius calls her annoying and nosey, but she doesn’t want Remus to think the same. She wants him to like her, to think she’s cool. Maybe more than cool.

“Sirius and James used to do the same,” Remus murmurs. He’d always been appalled when the pair of them strutted out of the hall bragging loudly about not having written a single answer. The arrogance of it, the laziness- the privilege of knowing that they didn’t need ten OWLs to get a job because their families were wealthy and well-connected enough to sort them out. Remus finds himself going off Tonks, just a bit.

“So, what were your Os?” he says wearily, because he’s known Sirius long enough to know when one of the Blacks is desperate to show off about something.

“Defence, Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Astronomy and Potions,” Tonks rattles off, making sure to mention Potions last because she knows it’ll impress him. Which isn’t much of a way to redeem herself from asking too many questions, but Lupin’s so poker-faced that she doesn’t have any other ideas. At least she’s talking about herself and not bombarding him with further interrogation.

“You got an O under Snape?” Lupin asks. She grins, pleased that it’s worked.

“Yep. And at NEWT too. He _hated_ me,” she says with relish.

“Join the club,”

“So what were your Os?”

“Transfiguration- I’d spent the better part my school years being the only one of my friends to read the theory, Defence, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes,”

It’s probably silly that it still matters to him, Remus decides. Sirius doesn’t know his OWL results anymore (well, that’s hardly his fault, Remus reprimands himself, twelve years of Dementors has an effect on memory). Molly had given Fred and George a talking-to before they went back to school in September, and it transpired that they’d already forgotten their OWL results even though they had only taken them the year before.

Remus decides it‘s best to come clean. “Is it odd I still remember this?” he asks.

“Nah. Yours were really good, of course you should remember them,” Tonks says quickly. She’s starting to think that bragging about her O in Potions had sounded childish. This whole ‘seeming cool’ thing is much harder when Remus is concerned, because he’s _so_ effortlessly cool and controlled.

 They lapse into silence. Remus should go. He’s got things to be doing. _No, you don’t_ , points out a voice in his head, _you’ve got nothing to do and you_ like _staying here while this brilliant woman pays attention to you_. Remus isn’t sure if the voice is sneering or sympathetic. It sounds strangely like Sirius.

“Remus?”

Lupin jumps when she said his name. He must be thinking about something important, Tonks reckons. Something clever and interesting, like he is. Something far more important than the question she wants to ask. She should stop asking him questions, but this one had popped into her head months ago and she’s only just remembered it now. It’s important, and she doesn’t want to ask when too many people are around.

“Hmm?”

“The Malfoy boy,” Tonks says, and even the words sound odd coming from her mouth.

“Draco Malfoy? What about him?”

“Right, that’s his name,” Tonks notes, clicking her fingers as she remembers, “You taught him didn’t you? What’s he like?”

She watches Lupin consider for a moment- she likes to imagine the gears turning in his brain. Finally he says, “Bright. Works hard. Absolute brat,”

Tonks snorts. Remus likes it when she does that- such a daft, unladylike laugh. Her Morphing and her clothes and her hair and her Black cockiness all give the impression that she cares a lot about her appearance, but then she’ll do that laugh and he’d be reminded that she isn’t vain at all.

“Knew he would be,” Tonks smiles, and Remus realises with a thump that Draco Malfoy is her cousin. He’s always had it in the back of his mind that Tonks is related to Bellatrix Lestrange, but he’d forgotten that Mrs Malfoy is Andromeda’s sister too.

He isn’t sure what to say next, but helpfully Tonks continues, “Mum always said Narcissa would spoil him rotten,”

“You could say he’s been somewhat indulged,” Remus acknowledges, “He’s not a pleasant lad by any means but he’s very intelligent. Always had his homework in on time,”

"You're too nice, Remus,"

"I was his teacher," Remus points out, electing to omit mentioning Draco’s sneers about his tattered robes and pallid complexion.

Tonks can't tell if he's picked up on why she was asking, so she explains, "We're cousins,"

"I know,"

"Never met him, obviously. I was hoping you'd tell me he's an arsehole,"

"He's a teenager," Remus shrugs, "D'you think you'd want to meet him?"

It’s a topic she's given a lot of consideration to over the years. Tonks shoves her hands into her skirt pockets and says, "Yeah, I would. Just to see what he's like, see if he's as much of a bastard as I want him to be,"

Hoping that a fifteen-year-old is horrible, just to prove herself right is pretty nasty. Remus looks at the floor to avoid glaring at her.  "Has your Mum told you that he is?" he asks, attempting to get to the bottom of Tonks’ bitterness.

"Nah. She mentions Narcissa sometimes, and I run into the husband at work occasionally, but Mum doesn't talk about the kid. Don't think she cares,"

"And you?"

"Do I care? Sometimes,"

Even when her unnecessary cuttingness is irking him, statements like that make Remus want to know more. More about what she thinks and how she thinks. More about what it’s like inside her head, because she’s not like anybody he’s ever met. More about her.

He tries a different route. "You don't look like him," Remus proposes, then realises that that’s an inane comment to make to somebody who can and does change her appearance whenever she wants. That’s another daft thing he’s said to her in the last five minutes.

Thankfully, Tonks laughs, "Give me a photo and I could have a crack at it,”

_Look like the Malfoy boy? No thanks,_ she scoffs internally _._ Well, she hasn’t _actually_ ever seen him, not even a picture, but from his parents Tonks imagines he's be all pale, pointy and prim. Remus is being overly generous, she decides- he doesn’t want to admit how horrible the Malfoy lad is. Lupin’s too soft on people.

"Bet you were a real pushover teacher," she says.

"Perhaps. You'd have to ask the kids. I enjoyed it a great deal,"

"Oh, I bet you did. Imparting your wisdom and all that,"

He shrugs. Tonks isn’t sure what that means.

"Well, Ginny says you were really nice to her after what happened in her first year, and I heard Ron say with my own ears that you were cool," she babbles on.

"High praise indeed, although it's probably because I ignored the fact that most of his and Harry's essays were coped from Hermione,”

"Told you you were a pushover,"

"You may have a point," he concedes. She liked how self-deprecating he is. And she honestly _would_ like to know about his teaching career, and she tells him so.

"I'd hardly call it a career," Remus says, more baffled than flattered by her interest in a jinxed job that he only held down for a few months two years ago. But she had asked, so he tells her. He explains the assault course exam he arranged for his third-year class, and the defensive counter-jinxes he taught fourth. He tells her about Emilio, the Muggle-born lad in his first-year class who didn't say a word out loud until Christmas, and the irritating sixth-year class who all mysteriously fell ill the weekend after one of the girls, Ailayah, turned seventeen.

"You remember all their names," Tonks observes, impressed.

"Suppose I've got a good memory for that sort of thing,"

"Better than mine. I can never remember the Malfoy kid’s name,"

"It means dragon, if that helps," he supplies.

"Not really. The Malfoys aren’t a dragon-y family,"

"No?"

"No, they're a...hoarsey family. A rooster family, I dunno," she gabbles. _Hoarsey family?_ Tonks winces at herself- what the hell is she talking about?

_The Malfoys are like roosters_ \- Remus smiles to himself, making a mental note of that one to tell Sirius. He almost mentions that Draco was the first legislator of Athens, although he reckons it through and it sounds pretentious, so he keeps quiet.

It’d been good chatting to him, but Tonks reckons she should go probably sooner rather than later before she really puts her foot in her mouth. She’d about to stand up to leave when two teenage boys hurtle into the kitchen. The bigger boy stops abruptly when he reaches the table, causing the scrawny dark-haired kid to skid into his back.

"Oh. Hello, you two," says the big lad.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Lupin asks. Harry Potter appears from behind the other boys' back, rubbing his nose.

"He's a Seeker, he's used to it," shrugs the first boy.

"Which one are you?" Tonks asks.

"George," says the boy, "We've come to see if there's any food in here,"

"There's always leftover stuff after the meeting," Harry adds.

"Sorry boys, we scoffed it all today," Tonks tells them theatrically, "Better luck next time,"

"Well, that's a lie," George snarks, wrenching open the breadbin.

"While you're here, you might want to hear that it's us two escorting you back to school next week," Lupin informs them.

“Oh,” mumbles Harry, looking abruptly crestfallen. He’s had a difficult few weeks so his spirits have been up and down, to say the least, over the Christmas holiday. Remus was pleased to see him dashing around with George looking for sweets, but the reminder of the impending new term has cast a miserable expression over Harry’s face. George, meanwhile, flicks his own ear and winks at Tonks, but says nothing.

"I'll pretend I didn't see that, shall I?" Remus says loudly. The kids spy on almost every Order meeting when they’re here, using an invention of the twins', so they probably already know everything that was discussed in the meeting. Remus has long suspected that Tonks had a hand in helping the twins get round the shield charms. Of course he disproves of that, but he’s never got round to bringing up with her.

"See what, sir?" George asks innocently.

Remus pins him with a Professor Lupin look, but lets it go.

"We're going to be leaving regretfully early so you'd better be packed by the Sunday night," he continues.

"I never really unpack," Harry shrugs. He's given up searching in the cupboards and had jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter.

"Practical thinking, Harry. Saves time. I like it," Tonks notes, "Listen, boys, I'd better head off. I'll see you on Monday, if not before?"

"Yeah, bye," says Harry.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" George adds.

"I'll see you soon, Remus," she says. She reaches over and pats his shoulder, which immediately feels awkward. But she might as well commit, so she does it again like patting somebody goodbye is a normal, friendly thing to do. To be honest he probably thinks she’s a total weirdo anyway, so it won’t make much difference.

"Yes, goodbye," Remus says, reminded she's got far more important things to do than natter with him all day.  It’s been nice of her to stick round for as long as she has. Very nice.

Remus only realises that he's smiling when George chucks a biscuit at him and asks what he's looking so pleased about.


	26. Birthday Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set on Lupin’s last birthday, 10th March 1998. I really liked this one when I first wrote it, but now I’m not sure it’s turned out how I wanted it to. Let me know what you think.

She slept better now that her father was dead. In the months when Dad was on the run, Tonks had tossed and turned all night, worrying. Mum would do the same in bed beside her and they'd lie in the dark, sometimes in silence, sometimes whispering words of fear and comfort to each other. It didn't help that Spudge grew and got fidgety over the Winter, and would hammer its feet and fists against Tonks' stomach from the inside. The kid was still at it now, but Tonks was sleeping better than she had in weeks. Wherever Dad was now, he wasn't being chased and hunted. He wasn't hurt.

The first thought she woke that morning was that it was Remus' birthday. He hadn't wanted a fuss because he never did, but she was determined to spoil him at least a little. She'd even persuaded Mum to buy him a present. Tonks rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed, trying not to knock into her mother- this took longer and was more difficult these days because use was so flipping huge- and crept past the past the bedside table, the wardrobe, and the photographs smiling at her from the wall. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Her old bedroom was at the end, just left of the boiler room. She creaked open the bedroom door and snuck inside. The walls were a brown-y beige this morning. Remus was asleep on his side with his face burrowed into the pillow. Tonks loved watching him sleep. He was so different. Awake Remus was controlled, still and always put other people first despite any discomfort to himself. Asleep Remus was soft, wriggly and groaned if you took too much duvet. She missed that.

Taking care not to yank it off him, Tonks lifted up the blanket, slipped underneath it and snuggled up next to her husband. She ran a finger down Remus' face, feeling the beads of stubble on the surface (she often thought he'd look good with a beard, but the one time she'd brought it up he'd replied stiffly that he didn't like having hair of his face. Tonks hadn't mentioned it again), then up into his hair.

* * *

Something was brushing against Remus' fringe. His eyes flickered open, to see his wife smiling sleepily while she ran her fingers through his curls.

"Morning, birthday boy,"

Ah, yes. His birthday. This was the first one they'd been together for, and no doubt Dora had cooked up some daft surprise which he'd pretend not be embarrassed by.

"Hello," he muttered.

She shuffled closer into his arms and whispered, "Happy birthday," before kissing his lips gently, and then again, and a third time more lingeringly. He didn't usually have this time with her, because Tonks had been sleeping in bed with her mother since Ted left. She and Remus only went back to her flat on the nights around the full moon- and on those mornings canoodling in bed wasn't on the cards. Ironic, then, that not sharing a bed with his wife much anymore had coincided with Remus finding her more attractive than ever. Since the bump started showing in December she'd looked so beautiful; ripe and healthy and swollen with their child. Remus wanted to touch her all the time, which was difficult because her breasts were sore and her stomach was heavy and she'd gone off sex. For ages Dora was frustrated but patient with him while he felt guilty and acted awkward when it came to intimacy. Now he was more keen and confident, but Tonks wasn't in the mood, or was too tired, or didn't want to be touched. Remus kept dreaming about making love to her, and a few months ago he would have felt disgusted at himself having those dreams and waking up with a hard-on in the bed she slept in when she was a child. Now he just chuckled, shrugged and thanked Merlin that Andromeda wasn't a legilimens.

Well, that was how things had been until a fortnight ago, until they'd got the letter telling them that Ted had been killed. Now their touching was mostly him holding Tonks when she cried, squeezing her hand, murmuring into her hair how sorry he was. They hadn't kissed like this in weeks.

Remus felt her peal her face away from his. "You're thinking about something,"

They agreed months ago, after he went away and came back, to always be honest with each other, but since Ted died it was a balance between honesty and preserving moments of happiness.

"I'm reflecting on the wisdom I've garnered in my thirty-eight years," he said. Thirty-eight. God.

"Any you'd like to share with me?" Dora asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Umm…don't stand too near a chip-pan. Use a Muggle Biro not a Quill when forging signatures. Never trust a man whose name means faeces,"

It occurred to him that he shouldn't have mentioned Mundungus, but Tonks was looking at him with that soft expression he hadn't seen in her eyes since Ted died, and the mention of the man who'd betrayed Mad-Eye didn't seem to have registered.

"What?" Remus smiled.

She ran a hand through his hair again. "My lovely boy," she said, and stamped another kiss on his forehead.

"Spudge says happy birthday, too," she added. It was the most Dora thing to give a nickname to their unborn baby. She'd been calling the child "Spudge" for months while they decided on a name. There was one which, if it was a boy, Remus had been thinking of the past few days, but he didn't know how to bring it up, or if Andromeda would be alright with it, or Dora as well for that matter.

"Thanks, Spudge". Remus always felt vaguely ridiculous using the nickname, but he leant down to kiss her stomach.

"Are you gonna give Daddy a birthday kick?" Tonks asked. Remus rested his head against the swell. No movement.

"I think it's asleep," he decided.

"Typical," Tonks huffed, "It's been jerking around all night and the second you're here it decides to go to sleep". She often claimed that the baby calmed around him. "But if it is," she continued, trailing her lips across his throat and reaching down to fiddle with the knot on his pyjama bottoms, "That gives me time to wake you up properly on your birthday...".

Remus' pulse leapt, but he couldn't help but blurt, "Dora- you don't have to". They hadn't been intimate weeks, since before Ted died. He didn't want her to think she had to do anything for him just because it was his birthday.

"I know," she shrugged. Her fingers crept back up to probe at his abdominals, while her other hand slithered up to one of his nipples and stroked it, very slowly, through his t-shirt.

"Are you sure?" he added

"Oh, come  _on_. We've gone months without you dropping the AYS-bomb," she groaned, laughing. For ages it was his favourite question, not just about sex but going to dinner, holding hands, telling anybody about the fact that they were seeing each other. She threatened a few times to get him an Are You Sure swear jar. Every time she'd look him in the eye and tell him that she was, and she did the same now.

"Yeah, I'm sure,"

"Well," he mumbled, and she was kissing his chest and running the back of her hand over his stomach, gently, just the way he liked, "If you really insist...".

* * *

Andromeda sat bolt upright. The bed beside her was empty. Nymphadora must be up, which was unusual as she normally slept late these days. Andromeda remembered that; the frustrating sluggishness of pregnancy. When Nymphadora  _had_ got up in the morning Andromeda could usually hear here crashing around, so the quiet set her on edge immediately. Where was she? What had happened? Andromeda grabbed her wand. What if something had happened to the baby and Nymphadora had to rush to hospital? What if Snatchers were here, come for the wife now they'd killed her husband? Had the Ministry come to take the werewolf away? Remus- oh God, it was his birthday, Andromeda remembered. Nymphadora had been chattering about it for days. Dromeda forced herself to breathe. Nymphadora would have gone nextdoor to see him- yes, that'd be it. Andromeda slid out of bed, gripping her wand tightly, walked past the bedside table, the wardrobe and the photographs smiling at her from the wall. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor towards Nymphadora's room. Sometimes the thought of a werewolf in her little girl's bed made Dromeda's skin crawl. She'd got to know Remus Lupin well over the last few months, and Nymphadora was right all along that he wasn't what is affliction suggested. He was polite, patient and reserved. Andromeda didn't think she'd once heard him raise his voice. He was articulate, well-read and sometimes unexpectedly funny. He danced with Andromeda beside the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, and he was more interested in her job than Nymphadora had ever been. When they received the news about Ted, he gripped Dromeda tightly while she howled into his shoulder. Then he put the kettle on and set about writing letters to everybody who needed to know. When Andromeda looked back on it, his authority and calmness were astonishing. She couldn't admit to anyone that in spite of all of this, sometimes she shuddered to think about what he turned into and what others like him had done.

Andromeda reached the bedroom door. She could hear Remus talking and- thank Merlin- Nymphadora replied. Andromeda gasped out a deep sigh of relief. She couldn't tell what her daughter was saying, but it was definitely her voice, and she didn't sound panicked or scared. Remus said something back in his hoarse Welsh lilt. They were safe, both of them and the baby. Nymphadora was nearly eight months gone now. Dromeda had been looking forward to her grandchild being born, although since Ted died grief and paranoia had strangled excitement. Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut and leant back against the wall.

* * *

Her mouth was warm and wet and welcome. He came quickly and hard, gasping louder than usual, drawing out her name for a few long, pleasurable seconds. For a moment after, everything was still and quiet, and then Dora was kissing back up to his hips. His hand was fisted in her hair and his breath was ragged. She'd always been good at this.

When Tonks' face appeared at his shoulder, she wiped her mouth on her pyjama sleeve, winked, pecked his jaw, then turned around so that he could spoon up against her. They always used to sleep the other way around; his back against her front, her arms clasped around his shoulders. Now it was  _him_  who held  _her_ , and yes it was because that was the easiest position now she was so big, but he liked to think that it represented something else about much better a partner he'd become. How he understood now that protecting her and the child meant keeping them close, not pushing her away. Perhaps it showed that he didn't need her to protect him from himself any longer.

* * *

Remus nuzzled his face into Tonks' neck and stretched an arm round to stroke her stomach. She closed her eyes, enjoying the pressure of her baby on one side and her husband on the other. Remus was still getting his breath back, and it was good to know that she had that effect on him, that they could still do this. Although that wasn't hugely surprising, since nowadays she could sometimes feel him watching her with un-Remus-ly blatant lust. Merlin knew why, now she was the size of a boat and went through about four different moods per second. Although Tonks wasn't sure if that was pregnancy or grief. So much of the last few months had been frightening or exciting, but now she felt so calm.

"Can we stay like this all day?" she murmured, running her fingers down his arm.

"Don't ask me, it's you two who fidget,"

"Spudge fidgets. I'm just on the receiving end of it,"

Instead of replying Remus dolloped a long, wet kiss to the back of her neck, then another, then burrowed his face into Tonks' hair. He was quiet for a few minutes and she thought he was drifting back to sleep, until he said unexpectedly, "Tonks?"

"Mmm?"

"I've been thinking,"

"Mmm?"

"Can Harry be godfather?"

Oh. That was left of field. Tonks hadn't given any consideration to the subject, especially not given the last couple of weeks. She didn't know what to say. She turned over to face him, which took about five times as long as it should have done. Remus chuckled and wriggled backwards to give the bump room, and when she'd turned round he stroked it idly with his fingertips.

"I think it'd mean a lot to him. It'd mean a lot to me," he explained, slightly sheepishly.

"Um, alright,"

"Did you have anybody else in mind?" he asked. Tonks got the sense that he was preparing to back-pedal if he needed to.

"Hadn't really thought about it,"

"I don't know when we're going to see him again, but I know we  _will_  and I want to give him some good news. He'd be a good godfather, don't you reckon? And," Remus continued, eyes flicking around the room again before meeting hers, "I owe him a thank-you for making me come home".

Tonks wanted to tell him that he didn't owe anybody anything. And that it had been his own decision to come home, nobody else's. Remus' choice, Remus' baby. And, she supposed, Remus' choice about the baby's godfather.

"Okay, then. Harry Potter for godfather," she agreed, and grinned at him. It sounded nice. And he was right that it would be nice for Harry, and more importantly for their child. Harry was brave and wise and perhaps he would lend their baby his Firebolt when it was older?

Remus did that wobbly smile he always did when he felt touched about something. He rolled onto his back, took her hand and squeezed it.

"Do you know," said Tonks, watching him, "I reckon that's the quickest it's ever taken for you and me to agree on something, ever."

* * *

She should have gone back to bed the second she realised what was going on in there. There were certain things that a mother-in-law should not hear. But instead of going back to bed Andromeda had frozen, trying not to listen but within earshot, feeling hatred for her daughter swell inside herself. And now the pair of them were back to talking and giggling, and that only made Dromeda's loathing grow. Because Nymphadora had her husband lying warm beside her, and Andromeda's husband was cold in the ground.  _On_  the ground probably- Snatchers were unlikely to bury their victims. He probably didn't even look like Ted anymore. He'd be filthy, muddy, bloody, rotting. His face would barely be recognisable. Andromeda had never been afraid of facing the truth so she didn't push those thoughts away. Better to accept the facts than to shove them to the back of their mind, where they'd only re-appear in her nightmares. Better to not to deny the corrosive hatred she was feeling towards her own child. Andromeda wanted to hammer on the door and scream at them. Screech at Nymphadora for being so happy. She wanted to rage at Ted for leaving her. Most of all, she wanted to rant and spit and kick and burn the people who killed him, the Dark Lord and Bella and everybody else in their side, every damn person Mother and Father had invited round when she was a child who flippantly believed in purebood supremacy, every person who talked about "Mudbloods" or "blood traitors" or "purity". Because every single one of those people were the reason Andromeda was standing in an empty corridor on a cold Spring morning, hating her daughter and the child growing inside her.

But Andromeda Tonks did not scream. She walked back towards her bedroom, shut the door behind her, sat down on the bed, and cried.


	27. Facts

The truth is

He was dead before she arrived at the castle.

She was dead before she found him.


	28. All The Devils Are Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Shakespeare's The Tempest. This chapter is set in November of Half-Blood Prince. It's a bit experimental and I hope you like it. Warnings for language, angst, sex and werewolf-y violence. Mentions of bombs, r*pe and homophobia.

In July 1940, a Messerschmidt bomber, having finished a bombing raid on the port of Whitehaven, dropped two leftover bombs over the Lake District on its way back to Germany. The pilot, Kris Baumann, saw a lamplight and dropped both bombs in quick succession, hoping to have hit a house. Baumann succeeded. The first bomb landed twenty yards from Keswick House, an eighteenth-century manor house belonging to the local wealthy businessman, Jeremy Constable. The children, Caroline and Stuart, were staying with relatives at the time, but both their parents, the housekeeper and one of the scullery maids were injured, and the stable boy was killed. His name was Samuel Asher and he was seventeen years old. The house was badly damaged and Mr Constable's business was struggling due wartime poverty. As a result, the family moved away from the property, and the house fell into disrepair.

The second bomb landed half a mile from the house, creating a crater. Due to the slippery Cumbria sandstone, the crater eroded in such a way that a tunnel was hollowed out. In the 1960s local children dared each other to climb into the tunnels, which were dark and scary as well as carrying the risk of collapsing at any moment. In 1974 a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback and a couple of his cronies moved into the tunnels, and fashioned them into caves. Two children disappeared that year- Evelyn Tinner, who was six, and Michael Gibson, who was ten. They were last seen playing by the caves.

Greyback and his mob- or "pack" as they referred to themselves- were a sporadic presence in Keswick for many years. Werewolves came and went and the pack often moved location, only returning to Keswick House and its caves every few years. Greyback himself wasn't always with his pack, often disappearing for weeks at a time. When he returned, those who asked where he had been were suitably punished so that they didn't ask again.

In the Summer of 1995, things changed. More werewolves appeared, literally, from the woodwork. After years of being hated and feared by their wizarding community, word spread that Greyback had an in with the Dark Lord. He Who Must Named, the werewolf whispers claimed, did not dismiss werewolves as dangerous or impure. "Mudbloods yes, werewolves no," the rumours promised. Wolves who for years had been sceptical about Greyback's colony, preferring to survive alone, found themselves drawn to the promise of security. A better world for their kind- well, it could hardly be worse than the present situation of no employment, no security and being spat at in the street by wizards. Keswick became a permanent base, and numbers grew so that by 1997 Greyback's following was as strong as it had ever been, with sixteen men and nine women in the pack. In the Autumn of that year, a man named Lorcan Jarndyce Rowe came to join them.

* * *

Remus is sure that Greyback's werewolf camp is the only place that's ever existed where sleeping inside a manor house is a sign of humiliation and sleeping in a cave is a sign of acceptance to the clan. The cave, Greyback laws, is where the  _real_ werewolves sleep. The ones who have proved themselves- what, exactly? Loyal, skilful, bloodthirsty? The ones who have gone along with Greyback's whims for that day? The werewolf alpha has many whims, but unfortunately none so far have involved Lorcan Rowe, Remus' alias, gaining permission to spend the night in the caves. Remus is sure that if he made it to sleeping in the caves he'd have more of a chance to integrate himself with the pack, gain intel and perhaps be able to sway some minds. As it is he's banished to the house with Amorag and Harley, two of the other newish werewolves, plus whoever else has displeased Greyback that day (so far it's always been men. Remus doesn't know if that's coincidental or not).

In the day he's busy talking to the wolves (they call themselves wolves even when not transformed), eavesdropping on conversations and scribbling down notes to send to Dumbledore. In the daytime his guard is up, his senses alert, his brain occupied and paranoid. At night there's none of that to occupy him. Remus' thoughts wander and they always skulk down the same unpleasant alleys. Remembering night James and Lily died, when everybody was celebrating and he felt so furious and disorientated. Opening the newspaper a few days after, seeing Sirius' face on the front page and reading with horror about what he'd done. That night a couple of years later when he'd been in bed recovering from a full moon and his landlady had stormed in, screamed that she knew what he was and demanded that he leave that minute. After the shock, and the panic to grab his things and run, the street outside had seemed huge and empty. Remus didn't know where to go. There was nowhere to go. Drinking tea the morning after Mam's funeral thinking that she really was gone now. She was never going to be here again. The gleeful smirk Severus shot him before he dropped the word "werewolf" at breakfast. The feeling of Harry wriggling in his arms as he screamed that Sirius was coming back. Having to force out the words, "He can't come back because he's dead", and then losing grip of Harry and thinking  _not him too, please not Harry as well_. The look on Dora's face when he told her he was ending things between them. She'd been surprised and bewildered. She hadn't seen it coming. Remus had spent months- longer than they were even together- picturing the scene where  _she_ broke up with  _him_. He'd imagined what she was going to say so many times and in so many ways-  _this was a mistake._   _You're too old for me. I don't want to do this anymore._   _I've met someone else. Look, it's been a laugh but let's call it a day, shall we? You're dangerous. Remus, you're a decent bloke but you're also a monster._   _Work's really busy at the moment._   _It's not me, it's you. I don't know what I've been thinking these past few months. Remus, my parents want me to break up with you. What's someone like me doing with someone like you? I don't think we should see each other any more. You'll get in the way of my career. We just don't have much in common. DON'T TOUCH ME, WEREWOLF, DON'T LOOK AT ME, DON'T COME NEAR ME OR MY FAMILY EVER AGAIN!-_ that he felt prepared for whatever transpired. He'd even practised an understanding expression and a promise that this wouldn't affect their working together.

But Tonks hadn't split up with him. And after Sirius died a new kind of realisation hit, a clarity about how stupid and selfish this had all been. How little he deserved her and how much danger their relationship put her in. Remus hadn't had as much time to prepare for ending them himself as he had imagining Tonks doing it, so he wasn't surprised that it went wrong. How could it have gone right? He'd walked away from her afterwards and promised himself that he'd go away and leave her alone to get over him. That wouldn't take long, and if he wasn't there then he wouldn't have to see her and cause himself more pain. Dumbledore had asked repeatedly if Remus was sure about the assignment to the werewolf pack, and Remus had promised the headmaster that he was. It would be hard, he knew, but he deserved hardship after what he'd done to Tonks. He deserves to be reminded of what he really is.

He's been here three months now. Part spy for the Order, part converter to talk the werewolves out of Greyback's brainwashing bloodthirst. The balance is difficult- if Remus sticks his head above the parapet trying to persuade some of the wolves away from Greyback, they become suspicious, and that mars his chances of getting any information out of them. Likewise, asking too many questions about that the alpha is up to dents his ability to talk anybody out of Greyback's insistence that life will be better under Voldemort. This suspicion "Lorcan" creates is the reason he's not permitted in the caves, so at night he's curled on drawing room floor in the manor house, surrounded by broken furniture, smashed windows, torn carpets, crude graffiti that the pack have scrawled on the wall, and Amorag, Harley and whoever else bickering. Remus doesn't get much sleep and his dreams are full of Harry, Sirius, Mam, Peter, James, Dad, Lily, Dora. Occasionally Bellatrix features, launching Sirius through the veil and Remus is powerless to stop it, like he was when it really happened. Or Bella is duelling Tonks and he can hear them but he can't see, and he needs Mad-Eye but Mad-Eye isn't there. The worst Tonks dreams are when he relives being in bed with her. The weight of her on top of him and the feel of her beneath him. Her sinewy arms around his neck. How she looked naked and the face she made when he made her come. The things she'd say blur into each other in his mind:  _More. Yes. Again. You're such a special guy. Oh my God. I love you. Open your eyes. Slower. Harder. You're amazing. Yeah, right there. You're so hot right now. Fuck, I love you. Remus, Remus. I'm so close._   _Close your eyes. Don't stop. I love you._  She was always asking questions so it wasn't a surprise that she didn't stop in bed.  _You're gorgeous, you know that? Is that good? Can you do that again? Faster? What do you want me to do next? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?_

It always feels wrong in his dreams, like he knew it always was in reality but ignored. It's worse than hearing her fight her aunt because this time it's  _him_ doing it- doing what? He isn't sure- and it's a vile, unsettling blend of lust and violence, of enjoying it and feeling sickened by it, of loving her and knowing that he can't be with her, of having ended things and knowing that he should never have started them. (He  _did_  start it, he kissed her first). Remus wakes sweaty and flustered, and he knows he must have been mumbling and Merlin-knows-what else in his sleep, because the others are sniggering at him. It's not dissimilar to how the Marauders used to giggle at each other for the same thing back when they were teenagers sharing a dormitory (Sirius didn't care because he was having actual sex from the age of fourteen. Peter would giggle awkwardly, and James would blush magenta while everybody teased him that he was jizzing in his sleep over Lily Evans). But the werewolves' cackles have a harshness, and Harley goads, "Whose your bit of skirt, Lorcan? When are you bringing her here for us all to get acquainted?".

"Bit of skirt? Ain't you heard Rowe's a fairy?"

They guffaw to themselves and eye Remus to gauge his reaction. He reckons that the taunt is supposed to make him angry, but he aims to avoid conflict here. Which is easier said than done because petty arguments are always starting between the wolves. They fight over food, chairs, whose turn it is to talk, and often Remus finds himself somehow in the midst of an argument he didn't realise he was having. The rumour that Lorcan is gay has clung to Remus for a few weeks now. The werewolf camp is horribly sexual; the men joke about rape and compare numbers of women they've had sex with to numbers of women they've bitten. They jack off together, slobbering, calling out increasingly lewd fantasies. Remus can't bear to be near them even though it might help him fit in more. The fact that he wouldn't join in was how the gay rumours started, and now whispers of "Fruitcake", "Fairy" and "Poof" follow him around. One of the older men clapped him on the back and told him, "We'll soon sort you out, lad. You'll get a taste for it". The mention of 'taste', Remus grimaced, was meant in two ways, and both of them feature in his dreams about Tonks. He finds that, oddly he dreams about her stomach more than her face. She had quite an interesting stomach, as stomachs went. That piercing in her navel; cold against his face and metallic-tasting on his tongue and poking into his stomach when he was on top of her. Auror work had given her muscles; her abs were unusually hard and Remus remembers last Christmas at Grimmauld Place when she challenged the twins, "Go on, punch me. Guarantee it'll hurt you more than me". She had a tattoo of a pirate ship above her left hip. Remus had once asked her why she got it and what it meant.

"It means I was sixteen and drunk,"

He'd goggled at her and she laughed. "Kidding. I got it a couple of years ago in Camden, cost a flipping fortune. I just fancied it, I s'pose I liked the design"

Remus still goggled at her.

"What?"

Remus reckoned that of all the versions of himself in every universe, not one of them would spend money on a tattoo for no other reason apart from just fancying it. No significance other than liking it. Tonks was nothing like him. And that was the most exciting thing.  _Nymphadora,_  he thought fondly,  _what on Earth is it like in your head?_  But he hadn't said it out loud. Instead, he'd leaned over and kissed her.

Now, he dreams of the pirate ship tattoo and the piercing, and of the curve of her waist and taste of her skin. And often that taste becomes blood, and his jaws clamp around her stomach and she's screaming and bleeding and Remus wants to let go but he can't, he can't-

"Shut the fuck up, Rowe," barks Harley, hurling a chunk of chair leg at Remus. The nightmares have made him thrash and squeal and wake them up again.  _It's a dream, it was just a dream,_ he tells himself, gulping air into his lungs, _she isn't here, she's safe, you didn't hurt her._ He forces himself to look around the room to remind himself of where he is. In the house at the camp. Not in Dora's warm bed, surrounded by her cushions and her purple duvet while they kissed and talked and she told him about her pirate ship tattoo. He isn't there and he never will be again, even if he survives this mission.  _It's useless, it's utterly fucking futile_ , Remus thinks as he glances round the room and Harley and Amorag growl at him to go back to sleep. He's not getting anything done; he's found almost no information for Dumbledore and talked no werewolves away from Voldemort. He's got scrawnier and sicker and frailer, he's hungry, cold and exhausted, he's bewildered and scared. None of his friends are here. The only person Remus hears from who cares about him is Dumbledore, but the Headmaster's codes make pleasantries impossible. There's no warmth or encouragement in Dumbledore's correspondence, only instructions and information. Dora isn't here. Sirius is dead. All that happens here is humiliation.

Remus is in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your time. I hope you liked the slightly different style of this chapter. Whatever you thought, please let me know in the comments. I haven’t had much feedback on the last few chapters, so I’d be really grateful if you left a comment of any of them too. Thank you very much.


	29. Wolf Boy

"Dora?"

"Yeah?"

She's lying across his lap, allegedly reading  _Catalonian Defensive Duelling Jinxes Volume 12_ , although in truth she hasn't turned a page for ten minutes. Mum's taken Teddy out in the pushchair to give them some time to themselves, and it says a lot about the world at present, Tonks reckons, that she's spending that time trying to stay awake while swotting up on close-contact duelling techniques.

Her husband doesn't answer so she glances up at him. He's staring straight ahead, jaw tensed and an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"What is it?"

Remus jiggles his knee uncomfortably and Tonks sits up, feeling more concerned. He's been fantastic since Teddy was born- he's tonnes more patient with their baby than she is, he always gets up with her when Teddy needs feeding in the night, and he's loads better at nappies. He talks to their son all the time, giving him a running commentary on whatever's happening. He loves drawing him, him and her, the three of them together. The first few days after they were married Remus was this happy but, Tonks remembers, there was an odd intensity to that joy. Remus was excited to the extent that she kicked herself for not anticipating the comedown which followed a few days later. Now he's happy but he's  _calm_  too. Content. She winces at the thought that now he's about to spoil that.

When her husband speaks his voice is even. "I've got a vial of Wolfsbane hidden under the sink,"

The mention of his being a werewolf catches Tonks by surprise. Truth be told she's forgotten about all that. This month has been the first in almost two years where she hasn't felt the full moon looming. She's so perturbed by this omission that it takes her a few moments to process what Remus has actually said.

"Oh. Okay," she mumbles.

"I've been saving it to use for Teddy's first full moon,"

Oh God, no. "Remus-"

"I know, I know, but I- he might be,"

He won't be. They've researched it and not found a single record of lycanthropy being inherited from a parent. Simple biology of acquired traits but Remus, who usually likes to rely on facts and evidence, remains unconvinced. His scepticism frustrated Tonks at first, but now anger's faded into pity. He's so  _scared_ , and that hurts her more because in every other respect he loves being a dad. She'd hoped that fatherhood had finally put his fearful hopelessness behind him.

"I want to be in my own mind when he changes in case you need help," Remus continues.

_"If_  he changes" she insists. He won't change.

"If he changes," Remus agrees. When he's nervous he speaks in this detached tone, and it's obvious that he's been rehearsing what to say.

"So what are you going to do?" Tonks asks, allowing him to follow his script.

"I'm going to show you what happens and how to restrain him. You can use my muzzle and mits. I'll be in another room and if anything looks like it's going to go wrong you can fetch me and I'll be able to," he pauses, "Control him."

In their research about inherited lycanthropy, Tonks had come across information about how to confine a baby werewolf. It's important to force the baby down during the change to be able to muzzle it as soon as possible. She couldn't do that. Couldn't shove Teddy's sweet little face into the mattress while he mutates under her hands. She's never seen an actual transformation take place but from what she's read and the little Remus has told her, it's disorientating and humiliating and unbearably painful. Their beautiful son...

And then there'll be  _all night_ with him howling and gnashing and clawing. He'll be so frightened- and what if she can't restrain him? What's Remus going to do- growl at their son until Teddy's backed into a corner, whimpering? Bat him with his claws? Grab Teddy in his mouth and shake him? Remus couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that.  _He won't have to_  do that, Tonks tells herself firmly, because Teddy will not be a werewolf.

"Okay," she whispers, hoping that he can't hear the tremble in her voice.

* * *

He's been taking the potion for the last few days. He's set the alarm clock to go off two minutes before the moonrise so Tonks knows exactly when it's going to happen. He's explained about what a transformation looks like, how big Teddy will get, how he'll move and how to hold him down when it happens. He's demonstrated the spells Dad used to contain him during his childhood transformations. Remus had hoped that, being an Auror, Dora would cope with the roughness of it all, but she'd got upset, and all he could do was hold her and tell her how sorry he was that it had come to this. He's written everything down in case she forgets or panics. He's given her the muzzle he used to use when transforming at Grimmauld Place. Sirius was on full moon duty back then, and although Remus usually doesn't like anybody fussing or even seeing him during his transformations, it was always different with Padfoot. Moreover, it gave Sirius a purpose, something he was so frustrated about lacking that year. Sirius got good at tying on Remus' muzzle and the mittens he wore over his claws. And when Padfoot turned into the dog and they curled up together on the cold cellar floor, it had been almost like old times.

Remus hadn't wanted Tonks to see him transformed at first, but as time went on it had become an inevitability. He'd fallen for her so hard, and was telling her things he couldn't say to anybody else, and she was so kind to him, that he found himself agreeing to it. It was best, he told himself, to get this out of the way now so if she was horrified by seeing what he really is, she could end things with him before it got too serious. Remus had seen a flicker of that revulsion on the night of the full moon, when she trotted down the stairs into the cellar behind Sirius. A flash of terror in her eyes when she saw him. And then she'd said, "Wotcher, Remus," and clutched onto Sirius' arm with one hand, while the other hand reached out to stroke his neck. Remus hadn't known what to do and had stood there dumbly, on his four legs, while she patted his fur. Dora and Sirius had come closer, until her arms were around Remus' neck, cuddling him, and it was so strange and so glorious and what had he done to deserve someone like this? A week later Sirius was dead, and a fortnight after that Remus split up with her and broke her heart and didn't see her again for a year.

Usually Wolfsbane makes the full moon week easier; Remus worries less so he sleeps better so he isn't as tired so he worries less. The back-ache and clamminess are normally still there but not as debilitating as when he isn't on the potion. But after nearly a year of not taking Wolfsbane (it's impossible to come by, given the circumstances), this month Remus feels as bad as he can remember about the impending full moon. Usually he likes to stay up with Tonks when Teddy needs feeding in the night, holding his wife while she holds their baby. He changes Teddy's nappy afterwards if it needs doing, puts him back in his cot and kisses him goodnight and pleads with him not to wake again until the morning. Last night Remus had tried to get up when the baby started to cry, but his bones protested loudly at the movement. Tonks told him that she'd be fine on her own and he should go back to sleep, but Teddy wasn't fine- he'd yowled and wailed. It was  _so loud,_ and Remus' hearing gets sensitive around the full moon so the bawling sounded even worse. He had to shove a pillow over his head to try to drown the noise out. He's sure that Teddy was crying so much because he was hurting too, because it's affecting him in the same way, because tonight he's going to transform into a werewolf. Remus couldn't even get out of bed to comfort him, even though it's all his fault that his son was in such pain. It took Dora nearly an hour to calm the baby down, and even after that Remus couldn't get back to sleep.

He sits down beside the cot, lifts up the bars and reaches in. His son's awake now too, but he isn't crying. He's staring at Remus with his dark eyes. They're Andromeda's eyes, which certainly isn't helpful. Remus is far too used to being on the receiving end of a glare from those eyes.

He puts his head down on the mattress beside the baby's, and rests his palm on his son's back.

"Hello, Teddy," he murmurs, "You and I need to have a chat". It occurs to him then that he doesn't know what to say, and that this is silly because of course their son doesn't understand him. It's alright chattering to Teddy when he's giving him a bath or strapping him in the pushchair, but this is different. Remus swallows.

"Something's going to happen tonight and it might be bad. You won't know what's happening, and it'll be very scary and very painful. I didn't want this for you, and it isn't because of anything you did. You're a good boy. This is my fault, alright? All my fault and I'm so sorry, Teddy. I'm so, so sorry".

His son's dark eyes stare back at him.

* * *

She stands over the coat. The alarm clock went off a few moments ago which means the moon's about to rise. She thinks of Remus, who's on the other side of the wall in the living room. He doesn't talk often about transforming, and if he does it's usually only the factual side. But once, late at night a few months ago, he mumbled to Tonks that the waiting is the worse part. That after all these years it still terrifies him. At least if Teddy is a werewolf (he won't be, he can't be, he won't be) Remus can be there to comfort him when they both change. Whatever Remus has or hasn't passed down to Teddy, Tonks reckons, their son is a lucky boy to have Remus Lupin as his father.

Teddy himself is asleep now, breathing steadily and peacefully. Babies are supposed to sleep face-up but if he changes it'll be easier to squash him down if he's already on his front. Teddy hadn't protested about the change when they'd put him to bed- Tonks reckons he was so exhausted from being up all night the night before that he'd sleep in any position. She runs through the instructions again in her mind, and the Mad-Eye Moody voice embedded in her brain growls at her to _keep a clear head. Don't get distracted, don't get emotional. There's a job to do._ But that's easier said than done when the job involves her own baby.

"Please don't be, Teddy," she mumbles, "I know you won't be. Please don't be". Please.

* * *

The moon peeps through the clouds, then sneaks out into full view. It's glowing silver. Teddy Lupin wriggles in his sleep.

* * *

Body contorting. Bones ripping through his skin. Pain pain pain pain pain. Make it stop make it stop. Dad, make it stop. Pain pain pain pain. Face stretching. Spine twisting. Help me. Pain pain pain. Make it stop. Dad. Help. Pain. Stop.

Wolf.

* * *

There's a thump and a scuffle and a noise between a whimper and a howl. Oh, Remus, Remus,  _Remus_ , she thinks, but keeps her eyes on Teddy. Teddy. Teddy, who looks the same as he always does. Teddy, who is asleep. Teddy, who is still.  _He hasn't changed_. Tonks feels a gasp yanked out of her body.  _Oh, thank Merlin._  Thank God. Thank luck or biology or whatever it is that's spared them that. That has given them this. Then Mad-Eye's voice barks at her to  _stay alert, don't jump the gun._  Tonks fixes her eyes on Teddy's body and counts to ten. No change. Counts to twenty, thirty, forty, and she's counting faster now because this is going through the motions, this is unnecessary because if Teddy was going to transform he would have done by now. She can see the full moon through the window out of the corner of her eye, and she can see her tiny son sleeping on soundly. Tonks kneels down beside the cot, slips her hand between the bars to touch Teddy's and feels his fingers grasp hers.

"Well done, Teddy. Good boy. Well done". Tonks doesn't know what else to say, and she jumps to her feet, runs out of the bedroom and through the hall to tell her husband. She's so thrilled that she forgets that Remus is transformed until she knocks on the living room door, calling his name, and receives two barks- _yes_ \- in reply. She's only seen him transformed once before. It had gone okay, but it was frightening and strange and so very sad. Tonks steels herself, and opens the door. The wolf is at the back of the room by the window, as far away from her as it can get. It- he- is huge. Merlin, she's forgotten how giant and imposing he is. Yellow eyes and drooping jowls and teeth so long they stick out on either side. Claws the size of her fingers and matted hair hanging off four muscled legs. Big and ugly and vile. Her flinch is instinctive. The wolf stares at her- expectant, ready.

"He didn't change," Tonks breathes, a tear dribbling from her eye, "Remus, he didn't change, he's still himself, he's not a werewolf,"

The words drop around them both. Neither of them moves. There's a silence.

"Did you understand? He didn't change,"

The wolf barks twice, quietly, and slowly sits back on his hind legs, then puts his front paws and head on the floor. Tonks can't tell what he's thinking and she tries to walk over to hug him, but he leaps to his feet and edges backwards, glaring and staring at her left hand. The muzzle, she remembers- he won't go near anybody unless he's wearing it.

"Alright, okay," she says, and the wolf stares at her intently as he lets her slowly move behind him and tie it over his nose and mouth from the back. Tonks tries to do it gently but the straps have to be yanked and tied hard.

"Okay now?" she asks. His jaw's clamped shut so he can't bark, but he snorts twice in affirmation.

"He hasn't changed, he's not a werewolf," Tonks whispers, and burrows her face into the ragged fur on his neck. It seems to sink in for Remus now because he nods, and she can hear his wagging tail thwacking the curtain, and he's snorting in pairs- _Yes, yes, yes!_  She peels her face away and beams at him and he scurries a little victory lap around the room.

"Do you want me to bring him to you? Do you want to see?"

Remus stops abruptly and the yellow eyes glare again. His single _No_  snort is so hard it's almost a growl.

"No, alright, I won't then. But you believe m-"

On cue, Teddy starts to cry in the next room.

Remus freezes again and Tonks beams. "There he is. He wants to prove to you that he hasn't changed,"

Remus performs an odd sort of wriggle and nods vigorously.

"He's probably moaning about sleeping on his front or something. I'd better see to him,"

_Yes._

She reaches out to rub Remus' fur with both hands, then hurries back to their crying, perfect, human son.

* * *

Dawn rising. Slamming back into his own body. Limbs shortening. Face squashing. Pail pain pain pain pain. Cracking. Fur receding. Pain pain pain.

Man. Sprawled on the floor. Early morning light. He waves a hand in front of his face. It's his own hand, not a paw, and then he's on his feet. Lurching towards the door, staggering through the hall into the bedroom. Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy. On the floor again- he can't stand- crawling to the cot. Shoves the bars up and draws his son into his arms. Teddy Teddy Teddy. His son, not a wolf, not a werewolf. All boy, the most incredible boy and Remus is squeezing him tight. His wonderful son. Remus buries his face against Teddy's fluffy blue hair. He's not he's not he is not not not NOT A WEREWOLF. HE IS NOT A WEREWOLF.

"Remus. Remus". Dora's voice, and by her tone the thinks she might have said it a few times already. He looks for her voice and knocks his head into hers. Her arms are around him. He sees her face and she's crying, and he must be too because she's wiping his cheek with her thumb. He clutches Teddy tighter. Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy.

"You're shivering, you're freezing. Come on, let's get you into your clothes,"

He tries to tell her _no,_  he isn't letting go of their son because their son is not a werewolf. But all that comes out is a groan.

"Remus, look at me". He obeys. "If you keep squeezing him he's going to cry. And you need to get warm. So you're going to give me Teddy and stand up and put some clothes on,"

He didn't know he was cold. He doesn't know how long he's been holding him. Tonks is stroking his hands and she eases the baby out of his arms and puts Teddy on the carpet. Remus wants to tell her that their son shouldn't sleep on the floor because their son shouldn't wake up on the floor because their son is not a werewolf, but she shushes him and guides him to his feet and helps him into his jogging bottoms and hoody.

"That's better. I think you tried to move too fast too soon after changing back, didn't you? You wanted to be with him,"

Remus' knees give way again when he nods so he sinks onto the bed. Tonks is telling him to keep breathing and that he's fine, everything's fine. He tries to talk but chokes on the words, and then Dora is tipping a glass of water down his throat. He swallows, thinking about how she looks after him so kindly with so little complaint even when he's gone too fast and overwhelmed himself like this.

"Th- tank you," Remus forces out, "T'is is all you, it's you". It's all her doing that Teddy is not not not a werewolf. All her. She's holding his face again, which is still teary and snotty.

"It was us. Us, yeah?" she says, and she hugs him tight for a long time.  _Teddy didn't change, Teddy didn't transform._ Then she pushes him gently onto his back and tells him he should rest now.

"No. Teddy. Need Teddy," Remus croaks. He has to hold him again. He is not a werewolf.

"Yeah, of course," she says, and a moment later she's putting his son on his chest. Teddy is sleeping soundly like he did at night. Like he always will. Remus really,  _really_  wants to tell James.

"Anything else you need?" Dora asks. He shakes his head. There's nothing else he needs now that Teddy is not not not not not a werewolf. He's the most glorious boy, what a clever boy. Perhaps he says that out loud because Tonks beams and kisses them both and climbs into bed beside him and wraps her arm around his waist. Their baby wriggles in his sleep and Remus reckons that he'll be asleep soon too. He can feel himself nodding off, and that's okay because Teddy not a werewolf.

"Remus?" mumbles Dora.

He's sinking into sleep and can only manage a, "Hmm?"

"Told you so".


	30. Lunchtime

He lifts her up and kisses her cheek and then her forehead, squeezing her tight.

"I missed you," he murmurs. She’d forgotten, almost, the timbre of his voice.

"I missed _you._ Merlin, this is crazy," she says. He's thinner than Tonks remembers although that's hardly surprising. His hair's longer and stragglier than it used to be, and his old clothes are moth-eaten.

"Crazier for me," he points out, setting her back on the kitchen floor.

She looks him up and down, noting that despite everything he's as goodlooking as ever. She’s waited far too long to be back in his arms.

"It's really good to see you," she says.

"How's your Mum? I missed her m-"

"Hello?" calls a voice from the hall, and the kitchen door opens.

"Moony!" exclaims Sirius Black, letting go of Tonks and looking excitedly at the person who has just appeared in the doorway, "Look who it is!"

The man at the door is holding a plate in one hand, and has a mug and glass gripped in the other (Tonks notes that she wouldn’t be able to carry two in one hand like that). He's shorter than Sirius with cropped, tousled curly hair that's brown turning grey, and ears that stick out a bit. He's wearing a black nightshirt and jogging bottoms underneath a red dressing gown. From his untidy hair and bleary expression it's clear that he's only just got up. _Jammy bastard,_ Tonks thinks, having left for work at seven in the morning. She has to admit, however, that the newcomer looks on the poorly side. He sounds out of breath, his skin is sallow and he’s got bags under his grey eyes.

"Hello," he says, and he smiles as he holds out his hand, "Remus Lupin. I don't believe we've met. Sorry I'm not dressed, I didn't realise we had compa-"

_"Met?_ If course you've met!" Sirius barks, "Don't you remember?"

Tonks has never seen this man before in her life, and he doesn't seem to recognise her either.

"Err, I don't, I'm afraid. My apologies," he says awkwardly, looking unsure what to do with his hand for a moment, before shocking it into his dressing-gown pocket. His voice sounds hoarse.

"Me neither," Tonks admits, shrugging at Remus Lupin before looking to Sirius, "Should we know each other?"

"This is my cousin, Nymphadora. You know, Remus? Andromeda’s kid,"

"Ah. Right. My apologies," Lupin repeats, sounding nonplussed.

"Nymphadora, this is my friend Remus. Moony. I used to bring him over sometimes when you were little. Don’t you remember?" he demands again. He sounds slightly hurt and Tonks, still having no recollection of this man, can only mumble incoherently before Lupin cuts across her.

"It was ages ago," he tells Sirius, then adds to Tonks, "Never mind. It's nice to meet you again,"

"She's an Auror now," Sirius says, putting an arm around Tonks tightly. The pride in his voice is touching. "Mad-Eye’s recruited her,"

Mad-Eye, who has characteristically excused himself from the family reunion to busy himself washing his eye in the sink, growls, "She's one of my best so don't go getting her head blown off,"

"Aw, Mad-Eye, that's so sweet," Tonks ribs him, then adds to Lupin, "It's only Sirius who calls me Nymphadora. Dreadful name, isn't it? Everybody else calls me Tonks,"

"Right,"

"Initial impressions, Tonks, go," orders Mad-Eye.

She turns to him exasperatedly. "We've only just met. It's rude,"

"Nonsense, he knew you when you were a kid. Verbal initial impressions thought, _now,"_

"What's he on about?" asks Sirius.

Tonks grimaces. "It's part of Auror reports. When you first see someone you have to mentally note all your initial impressions of them: what they look like, how old they are, how dangerous an opponent they look,"

Sirius beams wickedly. "And how dangerous an opponent does Mr Moony here look?"

The three men are looking at her expectantly, although Sirius's expression is tinged with mischief and Lupin's with discomfort. He’s still holding his crockery.

"Well, I'd say he's probably experienced-"

"No!" barks Mad-Eye, "Start from the top,”

Tonks rolls her eyes, mutters, "Sorry about this," to Lupin, and begins, "Wizard is white male, mid-thirties, approximately five foot ten, medium build. Wearing nightwear of a dark colour. Slight accent, possibly Liverpool. Judging from age, wand callouses on palm, presumed membership of Order of the Phoenix and clear affiliation with Sirius Black, probably an experienced duellist. Possibly out of practice due to decade-plus of peacetime,"

Initial impressions aren’t as difficult as people think they are, if you’re paying attention. Some is estimation but plenty of information about somebody is clear from spending a minute in their company. Tonks is attempting not to draw attention to the fact that Lupin's been asleep and how peaky he looks, but Mad-Eye’s prompt of, "Possible weaknesses,” leaves her no choice.

"Wizard looks tired, possibly sickly, suggesting a chance of tiring quickly during combat. If it is safe to do so and Auror has back-up, physically disarming wizard may be an appropriate course of action. Happy?" Tonks snarls at Mad-Eye.

"Good," he observes, which coming from him is pretty high praise.

"Physical disarmament? Does that mean having a punch-up?" Sirius asks eagerly.

"No," says Tonks, at the same time Mad-Eye says, "Yes,"

"I'd rather not," says Lupin, smiling slightly, "I don't fancy my chances against any of you at present,"

"I'm sorry about all that, it's nothing personal," Tonks insists. Lupin doesn't seem to mind though, she reckons, he looks more amused than insulted.

"It's fine. Sirius's mother's portrait is upstairs and she says far worse things to me," he tells them. Tonks has no idea what that’s supposed to mean.

"She'll have a field day with you, Nymphadora," notes Sirius. His tone is simultaneously mocking, humorous and grim, which only confuses her more.

Tonks isn't sure what to say so mutters, "Don't call me Nymphadora,"

"Well, you'd better be getting back to the Ministry," Mad-Eye orders abruptly, "Only brought you here to meet your cousin,"

"It's really good to see you," Sirius tells her again, earnestly, "How's your Mum?"

"She's fine, Dad as well, they're both great. Think they're enjoying having the house back to themselves since I've moved out. Anyway, I need to hear everything about you. Breaking out of Azkaban, you lunatic," she grins, cuffing him around the head. Fourteen years he’s been away. She can barely believe that she’s got him back, standing in front of her with his cheekbones and his long eyelashes and his deliberate slouch. She’d forgotten that’s how he stands.

Sirius attempts to look sheepish for half a second, then grins. "I had to. It-"

"Tonks, get a move on, you need to be back at work," Moody commands.

"Right, sorry. I'll come again soon, Sirius, I'll need to meet everybody else,"

Tonks hugs him again and hurries out of the kitchen after Mad-Eye. Lupin, whose been standing in the doorway the whole time, tries to move out of her way at the same time as she dodges around him, so they end up stepping in the same direction and she crashes into him, making him drop the crockery he was holding. The glass shatters on the kitchen floor.

"Merlin, I'm sorry. I'm always doing that. Sorry, I-

"Don't worry," Lupin mutters quietly.

"I'll help you,"

"Nymphadora Tonks, if you keep me waiting one more minute I'll make you finish that paperwork you fobbed off on Castley last week!" Moody shouts. Tonks grimaces. For a man who is allegedly retired, Mad-Eye seems to know everything that goes on in their department.

"Sorry, I've got to go,"

"Yes. Alright," says Lupin, flicking his wand at the shards on the floor.

Tonks blows a kiss to Sirius, runs into the hall, dodges the umbrella stand, catches up with Moody by the front door and immediately starts grumbling at him. "Thank you, Mad-Eye, _thanks._ Just what I needed, for you to make me look an idiot in front of my long-lost cousin,"

"Just making you do your job properly," he grunts. He shoves open the front door and they head out onto the porch and down the steps onto the Grimmauld Place pavement.

"How much about that Lupin bloke did I get right, anyway?” she asks, “He looks older than mid-thirties but he's can’t be if he was at school with Sirius, right? I got Liverpool wrong, didn't I, that was a total guess,"

"Yes, he's Sirius's age. No, he's not from Liverpool. Why d’you think he looks ill?"

"Cos he's tired? He's hungover? There's a surprise dragon-pox epidemic?"

Mad-Eye turns to her. "Bright witch like you should be able to work it out if you give it a bit of thought. I'll give you until the end of the day,"

"You're giving me four hours to come up with a diagnosis from the _world's most non-specific symptoms?"_ Tonks clarifies with an eye-roll. Being Mad-Eye Moody’s protegee isn’t much fun when he gives her unhelpful, un-interesting and probably un-solve-able challenges like this. Mad-Eye can be a right pain at times.

"Yes. Now go and get yourself some food before you go back to the Ministry, that's not the only work you've got this afternoon," Moody tells her. He gives her his _‘well, get on with it’_ nod, which is the Moody equivalent of a goodbye, then turns and stalks away, his peg-leg clacking on the pavement.

Tonks flicks two fingers up at his back.


	31. Fallen Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from Deathly Hallows Ch8 Fallen Warrior (one of my favourites). Written by JKR and I’m not making any money off it. Some of the dialogue was written by me, but I’m not making any money off it either. Hope you like this one.

Tonks hasn't let go of him since she leapt off the broomstick and hurled herself into his arms. The whole time they'd been outside with the others, sharing their stories about what had happened while nervously waiting for the last pairs to arrive, she'd been clutching Remus’ arm with her other hand snaked around his waist to hold him against her. It was embarrassing, in front of Harry and Ron and Hagrid and everybody, but Dora's grip was so tight and she seemed to need him so much that it would have been cruel to shrug her off him or mutter, "Later". And then Bill and Fleur had arrived and Mad-Eye was dead. After a moment of frozen shock Remus had felt Tonks crumple into him, and now, inside, she's whimpering into his shoulder. Molly and Hermione are weeping too. Harry looks too shocked to cry, which is how Remus feels. Mad-Eye Moody- tougher than steel with a tongue twice as sharp. Missing an eye, a leg and part of his nose but showing no interest in slowing down or giving up the fight. Blasted from the sky like a shot pigeon. Remus had known that they'd have to find the body from the moment Bill had told them that Moody was dead. The thought of the Death Eaters getting their hands on Mad-Eye’s body is the only thing worse than him dying.

"We've got work to do," Remus announces.

Tonks has been half-listening to them all. Fleur suspects Hagrid of letting something slip, Harry, nobly, had declared that he trusted them all, Remus told him he was like James. It will matter in the morning but it doesn't matter now because Mad-Eye is dead. Mad-Eye- her friend since she answered back to him during her first week at the Ministry. They'd worked and planned and bickered and teased and survived together. Everybody knew she was his favourite. The first year Tonks was qualified he'd gone away to teach and she'd been more nervous than she'd ever admit to be an Auror without him. Mad-Eye could tell hse was worried, of course, and he’d promised her that she'd be fine. And she was, but he wasn't. After months of silence from him, when Tonks had worried that perhaps she wasn't as important to him as she'd thought, Mad-Eye sent her an owl. In code, he explained that he was sorry for not writing and that they needed to speak urgently in utmost confidence. She'd met him, disguised obviously, in Victoria Park, and they'd walked around the pond six times while Mad-Eye recounted everything that had happened to him over the last year (his voice, Tonks remembered, had been matter-of-fact, and after the third time she’d gasped “No way!” he’d told her to shut up. Tonks snarked back that he was trying to show off by acting so causally about being locked in his suitcase for nearly a year). Mad-Eye explained that Voldemort was back, and the secret society he'd been in the last time was reform, and he wanted Tonks to join. And she had, and now she's got Molly and Arthur and their kids, Hagrid and Harry and Daedalus. Remus. And Mad-Eye, who had brought all these people and all that knowledge and experience and advice into her life, is dead. 

"I can ask Kingsley weather-" Remus says above her and Bill interrupts, "No, I'll do it. I'll come".

What? Come where? What are they going to do? "Where are you going?" Tonks blurts, as Fleur asks the same question.

"Mad-Eye's body," says Remus, "We need to recover it,"

In the shock of his death Tonks hasn't even thought about that.

"Can't it-" Molly begins, but Bill cuts across and tells her that it couldn't unless she wanted the Death Eaters to get hold of it. The threat drops heavily in the room. Remus puts his hands on Tonks’ shoulders and moves her away from him. She realises that he and Bill are leaving immediately.

"Wait," she mutters. She doesn't want to let Remus go, not after everything that’s happened. He glances down at her.

"Be careful," Tonks implores.

"I know," Remus replies seriously. But he doesn't know. Waiting for the others outside, Tonks had wondered whether she should tell him. She hadn’t been sure and had reckoned that she could decide in the morning. But if Remus is going back out there now he has to know. Tonks closes her eyes and leans up towards his ear. 

"Bellatrix knows about us,"

Her mother's sister had taunted her as the Death Eaters chased them through the sky. Bellatrix had cackled gleefully about the things she hoped Remus did to her, the things she'd make him do once she caught him. Tonks had wanted to yell at her to shut up, to get her husband's name out of her mouth (although Bellatrix hadn't called him by his name. She'd called him...other things), but they were surrounded. Ron was shooting curses everywhere and Tonks was trying to duel while flying, and Bellatrix had got angrier. The cackles were replaced by screeches and she started hurling killing curses and screaming at them how dirty and sick it was to marry a werewolf, but it wasn't a surprise considering Andromeda and “that Mudblood”. Jets of green whizzed past them and Ron was yelping and swearing and the air was full of streams and stars and smoke, until they skidded into Muriel's garden.

Remus looks down at his wife. Bellatrix knows. The news must have leaked out with whoever it was who betrayed them to Voldemort. Bellatrix knows. That's why she tried so hard to kill Dora. This is all his fault. He'd known that marrying her was a mistake from about the day after he agreed to it, but this is worse than he thought. Bellatrix wanted Tonks dead already and now he's made her even more of a target. And Bellatrix doesn't just duel to kill, she duels to torture and humiliate. 

"I'm sorry," Remus manages to murmur. He can't meet her eyes, but Tonks puts her hand on jaw to make him look at her.

"Be. Careful," she repeats. It isn't him who needs to be.

"Yes," he manages to agree and she squeezes him hard.

"Come back to me," Tonks whispers. He doesn’t take risks and he’ll be with Bill, but she doesn’t find that hugely reassuring with the threat of Bellatrix out there. Her husband isn’t’ the kind of guy who will smile to make her feel better, or promise that of course he'll be back, so Tonks isn’t surprised when says nothing and gives her only a grim look. Remus has to leave and she wants to kiss him goodbye, but he'll hate that in front of everybody. He's probably irritated at her for being so clingy all night. So Tonks lets him go, and he moves away from her, says a couple of words to Molly, claps Harry on the shoulder, and disappears through the living room door with Bill. He does not look back. And he does not know, because of neither of them do, that inside her the thing has started to grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please drop me a review.


	32. In A Name

“I think it’s a girl,”

“Really? That’s nice,”

“Yeah,”

“What shall we call her? Dorothemalia? Moragolily? Agraphasia?”

“Very funny,”

“I’m just thinking of names that match with Nymphadora,”

“Our kid’s name is going to be two syllables tops,”

“Alright, how about Myrtle?”

“Shut up,”

“Dolores?”

“Remus,”

“Hmm?”

“If it’s a boy d’you think we could name him after Moody?”

“Mad-Eye Lupin? Alright,”

“No, you goon. Alastor. For a middle name, perhaps,”

“Yes. Yes, that’d be nice,”

“He’d obviously think it sounds dead soppy,”

“I think it sounds perfect,”

“If it’s a girl we could give her your Mum’s name as a middle name, if you like,”

“Ah yes, Theodoramiloo Hope Lupin,”

“I _will_ strangle you”.


	33. Ted Talks: Part 1

The first Ted heard of it was at the start of July, a few weeks after Sirius died. Dora was out of hospital and had insisted on going back to work and back to her flat as soon as she could, sooner than Ted would have liked. When she popped round to visit Ted and Andromeda at the end of her second week back at the Ministry, her hair was a bland brown colour. Ted shot Dromeda as perplexed glance, but his wife shrugged and went to hug their daughter as she appeared out of the fire. Dora had seemed down all evening and when Dromeda was out of the room (Ted's wife and daughter did not have the easiest of relationships, and Andromeda was taking Sirius' death hard. Ted thought it best that she not be here for this conversation) he'd asked gently, "Dora, your hair?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you morph it like that?"

"Um...no," she mumbled, then pled, "It...don't make me say it, Dad,"

Ah. Ted had suspected this, vaguely remembering something similar happening to Dora for a while when his father died. The magic wasn't working.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Cheers. It's so bloody humiliating how  _obvious_ it is,"

"I know I've said it before but what happened to Sirius wasn't your fault," Ted reassured her.

"Hmm," she mumbled again, sounding unconvinced.

"Mad-Eye said that even he couldn't have-"

"Put a sock in it will you?" Dora snapped, "It isn't just about Sirius,"

"What?"

"Well," she squirmed, "It is sort of. I don't know, I don't know anything about it anymore, that much is obvious". Miserably, she tugged on a lock of brown hair.

"What do you mean?" Ted asked.

His daughter screwed her eyes shut, grimacing. "I was seeing somebody and we split up,"

Ted hadn't expected that.

"Oh. Sorry to hear that," he murmured, nonplussed. She was as upset over some bloke as she was about Sirius  _dying?_

"Yeah," she muttered.

"I don't need to go round and box a young man's ears, do I?" Ted offered, wincing at himself when the joke didn't come out right.

"No. It wasn't like that," Dora sighed.

"Well it's clearly upset you,"

"Yeah, it has," she confirmed dejectedly, "Don't tell Mum, okay?"

* * *

Ted's daughter had remained miserable for the rest of the Summer. She visited every few weeks looking increasingly drawn, and the brown hair remained. At the end of August she reported that she was being posted to Hogwarts to guard the castle.

"I'll be there all school year," she explained.

"How many of you?" asked Dromeda.

"Me, Savage, Proudfoot and Dawlish,"

Dawlish, Ted knew, was the renowned idiot of the Auror department. Dora would usually make a joke about how useless and irritating he was, but this time she didn't. Ted felt cold and uneasy.

"Are they expecting an attack on the school?" he asked.

"Don't think so but it's a possibility, isn't it? Plus Harry". Dora's world seemed to mostly revolve around Harry Potter.

"They're not going to come for the boy at  _school_  are they?"

"They might," Andromeda cut in, "They'll be after him like bloodhounds,"

"Especially after the Ministry," Dora agreed.

"Christ," breathed Ted. Harry Potter was- what? Fifteen? Sixteen? And Death Eaters might attack him in his bedroom? Poor boy. Dora liked him and said he was quite a laugh, but he'd been through an extraordinary amount for someone so young.

"I'm not saying it's likely, but Harry being there might make Hogwarts a focal-point for an attack or gathering," Dora rattled off.

"Where's Mad-Eye in all this?" Andromeda asked.

"He's staying in London. I  _can_ cope without him, you know," Dora answered testily.

"I know, but after…"

"Mum, I'll be fine". She didn't look fine. She looked angry and scared. Ted didn't like the idea of her going away to Scotland for a year, even if she'd be staying in Hogsmede. She'd be away from him and Andromeda, and Kingsley and Mad-Eye and the Order and all her friends. Ted reckoned she needed her friends.

Later, once Dromeda had left to play Bridge, he prompted gently, "I'm worried about you, sweetheart,"

Dora folded her arms across her chest and didn't say anything.

"Come on, talk to me. Is it still Sirius?"

She nodded and blurted, "I ruined  _everything._  He was in prison for so long and he'd only just his life back. He hadn't dueled for twelve years so I was supposed to protect him and I didn't, and he  _died_. It's so unfair, he had so much more to do and Harry needs him and it's my fault he isn't here. Mum's angry at me and I couldn't even look Harry in the face at the Burrow and Remus has gone away". She pushed her face into her knees.

"Nobody's angry at you," Ted attempted to reassure her, "Your mum certainly isn't,"

"Come  _on_ , of course she is. She'd only just got him back and it's my fault he's dead. I was supposed to protect him. Remus thinks it's all my fault, that's why he ended it". Her voice trembled and her words were blurring into each other.

"Remus who?" Ted asked, "What?"

"Lupin. He's Sirius' best friend and we were together, and he thinks it's my fault because it _is_  all my fault," she mumbled, and tears spilled down her face.

"Did he tell you that?" Ted barked sharply.

"No," she admitted.

"Well then, that's just what you're telling yourself, isn't it? Listen- nobody blames you,"

Dora didn't say anything, and Ted had a moment to take in that this Remus character was the boyfriend she was so upset about. Ted had a feeling he'd heard the name before.

"Lupin...Sirius's friend? From school?" he asked, fishing in his mind for the connection.

She nodded.

"You were together with him?"

She nodded. How much younger was Dora than Sirius, Ted tried to remember. Ten years? Fifteen? Crikey, that was quite an age gap, but Ted stopped himself blabbing anything out. Commenting on how old her boyfriend- well, ex-boyfriend- was would not help the situation. And there was something else familiar to Ted about the name- had he read in in the newspaper? The Prophet was guff these days but Ted and Dromeda still got it delivered, and read it with a heavy pinch of salt. Something perhaps about Lupin and Hagrid? Why  _Hagrid?_  Had Skeeter being prattling on about Dumbledore appointing dodgy staff? Hagrid was daft, but sweet and harmless, not at all like a- and then Ted remembered.

"Dora, he's a werewolf!"

That was the article in the Prophet; Remus Lupin had taught Defence Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts for a year and resigned when news leaked out that he was a werewolf. It had been all over the Prophet that Summer, and again a few months ago. A  _werewolf_ teaching school, around children- Ted and Andromeda had been stunned.

Dora lifted her face off her knees and said simply, "Yes. He is,"

Ted balked, shocked by both the confirmation and the casual way Dora had acknowledged it. Then he was hit by fury.

"What did he do to you?" Ted choked out, "Did he hurt you? Did he-"

"Dad-"

"Whatever happened, whatever he's done, we'll sort it. We'll tell Mad-Eye, he'll-"

"Dad, stop _, stop._  Yes, he's a werewolf and if you spent five minutes with him you'd know that he's been to hell and back because of it and all it's done is made him kind,"

She was still speaking very quickly and her words took a couple of seconds to sink in. When they did, Ted gaped at her.

"You'd like him, Dad," Dora continued, ignoring his astonishment, "He's really funny and clever, he's a proper gentleman-"

"He's a werewolf!"

 _"I know!"_  she shouted, "I knew from the start and Sirius knew from when they were kids. He's not what you're thinking, he gets so _ill_  around the full moon. He hates transforming, he wouldn't hurt anybody,"

"Oh, apart from when he turns into a monster," Ted snapped. Rage was coming faster now- he was angry at Dora as well as this Remus character. What the hell was she doing, defending someone like him?

 _"Don't call him that!_  Don't  _ever_  call him that again!" Dora screeched, leaping to her feet. And then, suddenly, tears were spilling down her face again, harder and angrier than before. "He was four years old when he was bitten. Imagine that, four. You have no  _idea_  what life's been like for him,"

She threw herself back into the chair and gripped her face as she started to cry _. Is this what the werewolf's done to her,_ Ted thought,  _turned her into hysteric?_

There was a moment of quiet in which the only sound was Dora's sobbing. Ted counted to five, then ten, and swallowed to stop himself shouting. They weren't going to get anywhere if she was crying and screeching and he was yelling at her.

"Alright, okay, let's calm down for a minute," he suggested out loud, to himself as well as his daughter.

"So you can tell me I'm being stupid cos he's too dangerous," Dora mumbled bitterly. She moved her hands away from her face, pinned him with a stare and declared, "I love him, Dad. I love him and nothing you say is going to change that,"

Ted glanced around, aghast, unable to look at his daughter. How on Earth could she be talking like that about a  _werewolf?_  Ted swallowed and tried to push those thoughts from his mind and concentrate on the present logistics: "Where is he now?"

"I told you, he's had to go away,"

"Where?"

"Order stuff,"

"When's he coming back?"

"I don't know, I don't know anything about it and I'm worried to death about him," she said, half-sob half-growl.

"Yes. I can tell," said Ted, trying to sound patient.

"It's not what it sounds like," she promised, "I know he's older and he's a werewolf but he isn't taking advantage or anything. God knows we didn't expect this to happen and all he's tried to do all along is the right thing. That's why he went away,"

 _And got his filthy werewolf paws off my daughter,_  Ted thought.

"Look, I'll show you, I'll show you we were happy," Dora told him. She jumped to her feet again and grabbed her coat from where she'd left it hanging on the door. She rummaged in the pockets, took out her wallet, extracted a small crumpled piece of card and handed it to Ted.

"See?"

It was a photograph. Dora was sitting at a table with her elbow leaning on the narrow shoulder of the man sitting beside her. Ted vaguely recognised his curly hair and his sticking-out ears from the boy Sirius had brought over to their house a couple of times (knowing that he was a werewolf! If he was alive Ted would yell at Sirius for betraying their trust like that. But Sirius was dead and Ted would never roll his eyes at him or tell him off, or act as a father to his wife's cousin, ever again), but the man in the photo looked much older. Well of course he was, fifteen years almost, but his hair was grey and his face was lined and he looked far too exhausted for a man in his thirties. If Ted hadn't known, he'd have guessed that the man was his own age or older. The Dora in the photo was eyeing him with amusement and awe, like Ted's seen her sometimes look at Mad-Eye when the Auror's back's turned. But there was something else in her expression in the photo when she looked at the curly-haired man. Adoration. Fixation. She leaned over and smushed a kiss to his cheek. The man pulled a face and pushed her off him playfully. Then he winked.

Ted looked up at his daughter. She was crying again and crossly wiping the tears away with her fist.

"We were really happy, Dad," she said.

* * *

Ted owled Mad-Eye. Mad-Eye would be able to tell him everything, Mad-Eye wanted what was best for her, Mad-Eye would know what to do. They met in a crumbling bar on the corner of Knockturn Alley. Moody claimed in his owl that he didn't have much time (he never did) so Ted got there early, and waited for the old Auror to hobble in.

"Mad-Eye, good to see you," he said once Moody arrived, holding his hand out to shake.

Moody regarded him with his whizzing eye. "Ted."

"How are you doing? You're looking well," said Ted, inanely.

"Cut to the chase, Ted, I don't have time for chit-chat," Moody told him bluntly. He shook Ted's hand for a split-second before letting go.

"My daughter and Remus Lupin," Ted began carefully.

To Ted's surprise, Moody nodded thoughtfully. "Ah," he said.

"Did you know about them?"

"Yeah," Mad-Eye grunted.

"And?"

"And what, Ted?"

"Well, what about them? What the hell's gone on? What's he like?" Ted demanded. He wanted answers but he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to hear.

"Lupin? Nice boy. Things haven't been easy for him,"

Ted gave him  _go on_  look.

"Wise. He talked sense into Sirius, if that was possible. He reckons he's a bit intellectual if you ask me," Mad-Eye shrugged, "He's good at following orders. Was in the Order the first time around so he knows what he's doing,"

"He isn't- she says he isn't, you know," Ted hesitated, "Violent?"

"For God's sake, of course not. Is that what you've been thinking? He isn't like that. Not all of them are, Ted". The patrionising tone in Mad-Eye's voice made Ted want to snarl at him.

Instead, he sipped his beer and asked, "What happened?"

"No use asking me. I've got other things on my plate to worry about," Moody grunted. He rubbed a hand over his battered face and sighed, "They kept it very quiet. I don't think he even wanted her to tell me,"

"But she did?"  _She told you and not me?_ Ted thought sadly.

Moody nodded abstractly.

"She's really upset about it," Ted murmured.

"Hmmph,"

"I don't think it ended well,"

"I can't tell you where he is, if that's what you're asking," Mad-Eye stated.

Ted didn't know what to say to that.

"There's not a lot I  _can_  tell you, Ted, apart from that he's a good man and your daughter isn't an idiot,"

"No, of course not," Ted mumbled.

"Well. Goodbye," said Moody abruptly. He got to his feet and stumped away.

* * *

The old Auror was right. Ted's daughter wasn't stupid. But she also wasn't the type to get hysterical about boyfriends. She wasn't a miserable person, but she'd been like this for two months now. Perhaps Ted didn't know her at all. As Andromeda walked through the front door and pecked him on the cheek, Ted couldn't help but think of Cygnus. Was this how Ted's father-in-law had felt about Ted himself all those years ago? But blood beliefs were ridiculous and dated and had no ground in truth. Werewolves _were_  dangerous. It wasn't prejudice or superstition- it was fact. Even when not transformed they were feral and savage. But Lupin had been Sirius' friend- but look at how reckless Sirius was- yes, but he wasn't stupid- no, he was drawn to danger- danger, not darkness- but- but Sirius was gone.

"Ted?" called Dromeda from the kitchen, "I asked if you wanted a tea?"

"No, thanks," he replied. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Lupin had been like when he'd come over with Sirius when they were younger. Ted didn't have a particularly good memory for things like that and while he could picture the Lupin boy  _being_ there, he couldn't remember anything he'd said or done. Which, Ted acknowledged, confirmed that Lupin hadn't said or done or anything werewolf-like.

Andromeda stuck her head around the door, "Are you alright?"

"Fine,"

"Something's bothering you, I can tell,"

"Just thinking about Snape teaching Defence at Hogwarts," Ted lied. He'd always hated lying to Andromeda.

"Why on Earth are you thinking about that?"

"Wondering whether Dora'll bump into him. He never liked her,"

"As far as I'm aware he doesn't like anybody," Dromeda pointed out, leaning on the doorframe, "She sees him at Order meetings and it's all alright. And it's not like you to worry?"

She was right, it wasn't. But now, Ted thought dejectedly, it seemed that there were a great number of things to worry about.

* * *

Christmas was a gloomy affair. They went to Ted's brother Bobby as usual, where Dora usually entertained Bobby's kids by messing with her nose and hair. But this year when little Megan demanded, "Dora, do your faces,"

Ted's daughter shrugged, said, "Sorry, not this year" and sipped her Buck's fizz dejectedly.

After Christmas dinner she volunteered to do the washing up, something which had never happened in living memory and which Ted suspected was an excuse to get away from everybody.

"I don't know what's wrong with her," Dromeda said, back at home that evening after Dora had slunk off to bed, "It's been nearly half a year. Merlin knows I'm upset about Sirius, but..."

She looked at Ted, expecting an answer. He didn't know what to tell her.  _She's heartbroken over her significantly older werewolf ex-boyfriend_  would not go down well with Andromeda.

"You don't think she's ill, do you?" Dromeda said suddenly.

"Don't be daft. She passed her Ministry medical in April,"

"That was before this happened. I should write to Mad-Eye..."

Ted winced. "Mad-Eye would have told us if there was something to worry about," he insisted, unsure if this counted as a lie.

"Of course there's something to worry about!" Dromeda snapped, "This isn't  _her_ , and it's been months now. It's all happening again, it's started all over again,"

"What?"

"The war!" Andromeda shouted.

"This time's different,"

"Different because our daughter's on the front line. She's nearly died already-" Dromeda caught herself mid-sentence, realizing something. "Do you think that's what this is about? Bella?" she asked sharply.

"I don't know," said Ted. He didn't like to think about Bellatrix Lestrange, and he found it disturbing that after all these years and everything she'd done, Andromeda still called her "Bella" and referred to her as her sister.

"Yes you do, Ted, you  _do_  know. She wants us all dead," Dromeda insisted. She'd always stated the truth bluntly, however much nobody else wanted to hear it. Andromeda hated denial.

Dromeda shut her eyes, leaned her head back against the wall and held her hand out for Ted to grasp onto. He did.

"I can't do this," she breathed, shaking, "I can't do this all over again".

* * *

_Dad-_

_Sorry for being such a misery-guts over Christmas. R was at the Ws and M invited me to come over, but I said no, but I kept thinking about him. I promise he isn't dangerous. Please believe me. I miss him so much. M says he misses me too which makes it worse. To be honest I feel completely terrible at the moment. As if that wasn't blindingly obvious. I'm very worried about him. Please don't worry about me. I'm enclosing a card for Megan and the boys to say sorry for being so boring on Christmas Day. Please can you send it to them through the Muggle post, because there isn't a postbox up here, or anywhere to buy stamps._

_Lots of love_

_Dora xx_

* * *

Winter slid into Spring. Frost on the ground melted, disappeared for a few weeks, then returned. Manchester City stayed top of the league but the Ballycastle Bats lost three matches in a row, so Ted just about broke even on his bets. One of Andromeda's Muggle-born colleagues received a Stinksap envelope and had to spend a day in St Mungo's. Ted tried repeatedly to explain to Andromeda the workings of the upcoming Muggle election. The oldest of the MacMillan's granddaughters announced she was remarrying a Ghanaian gold-dealer. One of Arthur Weasley's sons was poisoned. According to Dora, Harry Potter saved his life.

"With a Beozor," she explained, "Shoved it in his gob, Ron was lucky to survive,"

She was picking at her food on the Sunday night of a weekend visit home in April. She looked the same as when Ted had last seen her a month prior- he was starting to wonder if the brown hair was a permanent fixture. He missed the pink.

"And this was in Horace Slughorn's office?" Dromeda asked.

Dora nodded. The story seemed very strange to Ted, but strange things were always happening to the Weasleys and Harry Potter.

Andromeda must have been thinking the same thing because she ejaculated, "Merlin, is Potter their savior or their bad luck charm?"

Dora looked up sharply. " _Mum,"_

"Well, he attracts danger, doesn't he? I'm sure he's a nice boy but he's putting Molly Weasley to a lot of effort,"

"Molly likes going to effort. She's been really good to me," Dora responded. Ted thought he heard a jab at Andromeda in this proclamation.

"So Slughorn's teaching Potions again?" he said loudly, trying to steer the subject away from an argument, "How's that going?"

"Alright, I think," said Dora, "It's been more than half a year now. Can't be worse than Snape, can he?"

Last year, Ted thought sadly, she'd have asked him and Dromeda both about what Slughorn had been like when he'd taught them. She'd have been keen for funny stories and gossip about the Hogwarts newcomer. Now, she looked back down at her plate and continued jabbing aimlessly at her Yorkshire pudding.

"No," agreed Ted, and the three of them lapsed into silence. Ted could feel Andromeda's irritated, nonplussed gaze on him but he ignored it- there was nothing he could say to her in front of Dora that would help the situation, and so the only sound for a few minutes was their chewing and the scrape of cutlery. Quiet was unusual in this house, and it made Ted uneasy.

"Nymphadora, are you going to eat that or not?" demanded Andromeda abruptly.

Dora looked up and it was clear from her expression that she hadn't given her dinner any thought. "I, err, yeah," she muttered.

Most of the habits and rules from Dromeda's childhood had faded since she eloped with Ted twenty-six years ago, but her stickling for table manners always popped up when she was irritated. Ted had stayed at home to look after Dora when she was small, but on the occasions it had been Andromeda's turn to run dinnertime she'd constantly nag their daughter to sit up straight, keep her elbows off the table, clear her plate, don't talk with her mouth full, don't eat with her mouth open. These rules always snuck back in when Dromeda was cross.

"It's alright," said Ted quickly, "We can wrap it in foil and you can heat it up tomorrow if you want,"

"Alright. Thanks," said Dora, but it was clear she wasn't listening.

Ted shot a  _please shut up_ look at Andromeda. His wife rarely did anything he asked her too, but she seemed to break tradition this time and she didn't speak again until they were clearing up the plates. This time, Dromeda offered to wash up, and Ted was grateful that she'd taken the hint to avoid upsetting Dora further. Although to be fair, thought Ted, Andromeda hadn't done anything  _intentionally_  to distress their daughter. It was Dora who was unexpectedly sensitive and easily upset.

"You haven't heard from him, then?" Ted said, sitting down beside her on the rickety old sofa while Andromeda put the plates away nextdoor. He might as well address the elephant- or the werewolf- in the room.

"No, I have," Dora said.

Ted hadn't been expecting that. "Oh. Right,"

"He's come back. He wasn't getting anywhere with- with where he was, so Dumbledore ordered him home. Fat lot of good it is though- he looks like crap, he's beating himself up because he didn't get everything Dumbledore wanted done, and he doesn't want to talk to me,"

Ted felt strangely relieved that Lupin was back from wherever he'd been. That was some sort of improvement, and at least Dora knew where he was. "Have you spoken to him?" Ted asked.

"Yeah. Total humiliation. I got angry at him, and he doesn't  _get_  angry so I looked like an idiot. He thinks I'm some stupid kid and he doesn't want anything to do with me,"

"Oh. Well you know he's safe, though," Ted suggested.

Dora didn't reply. Ted hated her being silent like this. He tried a different tack. It was something he'd been working on since he'd spoken to Mad-Eye.

"Listen, I've been thinking," Ted admitted, considering how to word this next sentence, "I've been wondering the last few months, about Hagrid and things. And I've read a about werewolves. And I- I want you to know that I'm okay with this. With what he is. I can't pretend I'm happy about it, and it's certainly not what I'd choose for you, but if he's been here before and we didn't even know that he was a….honestly, if you're this unhappy now, he must have made you really happy before. And-" the words  _if you're happy I'm happy_ died in Ted's throat. He couldn't say something as sentimental as that. Ted compromised with, "And I want you to be happy".  _I want my daughter back, and if her loving a werewolf if what it takes, then that's what it takes._ It hadn't been easy to decide, and it felt strange to confirm it out loud. Ted wasn't completely sure if he meant it.

Ted had hoped that his acceptance would cheer Dora up a bit. It didn't. She nodded thoughtfully, flicked her brown hair out of her face and sighed, "Thanks, Dad. But it doesn't make any difference".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for taking the time to read this story. Ted Talks will be a three-parter, updated every other chapter. If you have a moment, reviews are always appreciated.


	34. First

He was nervous the first time.

Nervous that he hadn’t done this with a woman in a long while.

(He hadn’t counted the years).

Nervous that he’d touch her too hard or too soft or in the wrong places.

Nervous it’d happen too slow or too quickly.

(Sirius would laugh his head off).

Nervous that she wouldn’t enjoy it.

(He didn’t think she was the sort of woman to pretend she had to make him feel better. That was one of the things he liked about her).

He doubted that her expectations were high, but even then he supposed that he’d disappoint her.

 

He was nervous that in undressing him she’d see just how tattered his clothes were.

(“For God’s sake, Remus,” groaned Sirius, “Let me buy you some new t-shirts,”).

Nervous about his puny arms and narrow chest.

Nervous about how gaunt he was.

(“Have another pasty,” ordered Molly as she shoved one onto his plate).

Nervous about the nicks on his arms-

(Sirius insisted on buying him Wolfsbane, but even a tame wolf’s claws are sharp and hulking).

-and the bruises on his shoulders.

(The wolf’s scapula burst through his skin and his arms contorted horribly into the wolf’s front legs and it _hurt, it_ _hurt_ ).

He was nervous that she’d see all this and pity him, and pity from her was one thing he couldn’t stand.

 

He was nervous about her seeing the angry red bite-mark at the top of his left arm.

(“Mummy! Mummy!”).

(Sirius’ head appeared over the top of the shower cubicle, “Let’s see the bite, then,”).

(He’s sobbing and writhing and there’s blood and fur and vomit all over his bed).

(“I thought it’d be bigger than that, Moony,”).

( _“Mummy!”)._

 

He was nervous that once they’d started she’d realise what she was doing with what he was and that she’d be repulsed.

(He wouldn’t blame her).

Nervous at seeing the horror and fear in her eyes.

Nervous that she’d shove him away and scream at him for trying to taint her like this.

He half-hoped that she did. It would spare him the agony of falling for her harder.

 

He managed to mumble some of this, part of this, very little of this, when it happened the first time.

(He knew her bedroom would be a mess).

Sprawled on the bed, she was beside him kissing his neck and fumbling with his shirt buttons, guiding his hands to her breasts.

(“Listen, Tonks, I…I haven’t done this in a while and I don’t want you to…I don’t want you to think…are you _sure_ this is what you want?”).

She pulled her mouth away from his neck, cocked her head and looked at him.

“Are you worried?”

“Yes,” he admitted, “A bit,”

(A lot).

(She paused).

“You daft thing,” she said, “It’s going to be alright”.

 

Afterwards, he wonders why he was nervous at all.


	35. Ted Talks: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this follow-up to Part 1, although be warned that it contains allusions to domestic violence.

Dumbledore was dead. It was all over the papers and the radio. Dumbledore was dead at the hand of Severus Snape- although the only reason Ted knew that second part was because Dora had told him so when she'd Flooed home for a brief, frenzied half-hour the evening afterwards to assure them that she was safe. She'd been jittery and exhausted, and she was going back to work straight after coming home. There was lots to be done at Hogwarts. Nobody could believe what had happened.

"Are they  _sure_ it was Snape?" Ted asked, white-faced.

"Of course we're sure. He ran past us on the stairs, Harry saw him kill him, he saw the body,"

"When's the funeral?" Dromeda demanded.

"Friday,"

"Will you be home after?"

"I don't know. Nobody knows. It's madness".

* * *

_Dad,_

_Everything's fine but need to speak urgently. Is Mum still going to Poker on Sundays, if yes can I Floo over while she's out? All fine. Funeral OK. You've probably seen pictures by now._

_Dora._

Ted gripped the letter in his hands and waited. He'd replied to confirm that Andromeda would be out from eleven until two, and Dora could come over any time then. It was eleven-thirty now and she hadn't turned up, which wasn't surprising, but Ted didn't want to wait in for her all day. He wasn't sure if he should be concerned- her letter had said everything was fine, but in the sort of way one said it when things weren't. It wasn't just Ted's daughter who was unpredictable these days- it was the world. Dumbledore,  _murdered._  It still hadn't sunk in, despite the funeral coverage all over the newspapers and the radio.

There was a clunk and then a whirring noise, and then something bright pink started materialising in mid-air in the fireplace. After a moment the pink blurred downwards into a head and a body, and Dora toppled out of the fireplace into the front room

"Wotcher, Dad,"

She hugged him, smiling like he hadn't seen her smile in months. And her hair...her pink hair was  _back._  Ted felt even more perplexed.

"Hello, sweetheart. How was the funeral?" he asked, letting go of her. Dora's smile disappeared abruptly.

"Everybody cried buckets. The weather was beautiful but it was so  _sad,"_

_"_ I've seen the photos- the centaurs came, didn't they?"

"And the merepeople. So many people. But, listen, Dad, I need to tell you something". Her voice was urgent but she was beaming again. This was very strange.

"Yes. Okay," Ted nodded, unsure what to feel or prepare for.

"I'm getting married,"

Ted stared at her. He hadn't known what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that.

"Remus and I are getting married next week. It's fantastic _,_  isn't it, it's all happened so quickly and I-" Dora chirped.

Finding his voice, Ted cut her off. "What?  _Married?_  Next week?". She had to be joking. This was a trick, this was a daft joke and she was going to laugh herself silly at him in a minute.

"I know it's a shock, it was for me. We only agreed to at the funeral. Isn't it  _wonderful?_ " she sighed dreamily.

"You're kidding. Very funny, now what it is you really want to tell me?" said Ted, rolling his eyes. Perhaps she was trying to cheer him up after the news about Dumbledore.

Dora shook her head but didn't stop smiling, "Not kidding. Not a joke. I'd show you an engagement ring only we haven't sorted one out yet,"

Ted goggled at her again.

"For real, Dad. This is happening. I am marrying Remus Lupin next week and I want you to come,"

"Next _week?"_ Ted echoed.

"Yes. Probably Scotland. I wanted a big do, but there isn't much time and he doesn't want a fuss. I don't even know if you'll have to give me away, but that's all a bit stupid, isn't it, Dad? Dad?"

She wasn't joking, and it was sinking in now. Getting married? Dora? Next week? She hadn't...she'd been heartbroken over this man all year and now all of a sudden they were getting  _married?_

"You're happy, aren't you? You'll come?" Dora was saying.

"Yes. Yes, of course we'll- I- give me a minute," Ted stammered, moving to the sofa to sit down, "I suppose I should say congratulations," he added, because her elated expression had faltered into concern.

"Thanks, Dad. It's so exciting. It's amazing, he's amazing. Everything's sad and crazy, and then this has happened and it's..." she tailed off, glowing.

"Are you sure about this?" Ted asked. The grin was back, and the slight hysteria in her face was disconcerting.

"A hundred percent. A million percent. You know how much I missed him, Dad, and now I'm going to  _marry_ him,"

"But...next week?" Ted spluttered again. Seven days was no time to plan a wedding, even a quiet one. Surely she was busy at Hogwarts and with the Order?

"We've wasted so much time," she explained, "Over a year. We're not going to wait anymore,"

The repeated Ws forced another thought into Ted's mind: "And you're...he's still a, you know- a werewolf,"

Dora's mouth tightened into a line. She folded her arms and eyeballed him. "Yes. He is,"

"And you're  _sure?_ You're absolutely sure- look, can't I meet this man before you run off to Scotland to marry him?" Ted asked. He'd promised her he was alright with it but he hadn't expected _this_  to happen. Could he be alright with this? Would Andromeda? Would anybody?

"We're not running off. That's  _you two_  who did that. Which is why I'm here, inviting you to our wedding," Dora said stiffly, "I want him to come round here tomorrow. For dinner. And I want you to be nice to him,"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. You'll see, Dad, you'll see what he's really like. I promise you'll like him, I promise you don't have anything to be afraid of,"

"Right. I- well, if it's- yes, of okay. Of course we'll have him over,"

Ted looked at his daughter, sitting beside him pink-haired and ecstatic, jiggling her legs excitedly.

"Just one thing, Dora," he added nervously, "How on Earth are we going to tell your mother?".

* * *

The conversation with Andromeda was one which Ted would have preferred to forget, but knew he never would.

* * *

"Hello!" Ted chirped, and winced at his overly cheery voice.

"Hello, Mr Tonks. I'm Remus. It's very nice to meet you,"

The man standing on the porch was a little taller than Ted and a lot thinner. He was wearing a shabby grey suit and a moth-eaten burgundy jumper, and holding a bunch of white flowers. Dora was standing beside him bouncing nervously on the toes of her neon yellow Dr Martens. The man didn't look like he'd ever owned anything neon yellow in his life. He held out his hand to shake in a manner which, like his greeting, seemed rehearsed.

Ted plastered on a smile as rehearsed as the other man's. "Hello, Remus. Pleased to meet you, too,"

They shook hands and, Ted noted, Remus' palms weren't hairy. Ted stepped side to allow them both into the house (it seemed an uncomfortable thing to do for your daughter, but probably not the most uncomfortable thing that would happen this evening) and led the way into the sitting room. Andromeda was sitting on the far side of the sofa staring out of the window as if trying to memorise the view. She'd tied her dark hair up in a tight bun, which reminded Ted of Professor McGonagall.

"Good evening, Mrs Tonks," said Remus, in the same practised tone, "Lovely to meet you,"

Andromeda didn't move. "Hello," she said tightly. Ted saw Dora's smile flicker.

"Remus has bought some flowers, isn't that nice," he said loudly (goodness, it wasn't going to be like this all evening, was it? He didn't know if he could handle constantly changing the subject away from Remus' condition and Dromeda's disapproval), "Peonies, Dromeda, your favourite,"

Ted had no idea if the flowers were peonies, or if peonies were his wife's favourite flower. "I'll get a vase," he declared, "Would anybody like a drink?"

"Yeah, you've got that white wine Uncle Bobby bought at Christmas, don't you?" said Dora.

"Yes, excellent. Remus?"

"Yes please, Mr Tonks," said Remus timidly.

"Dromeda?"

"Yes," she snipped.

Ted escaped to the kitchen, performed a cooling spell in the wine bottle, uncorked it and poured four glasses. After a moment's consideration, he drained one glass and refilled it for himself. He was going to need all the help he could get tonight.

* * *

"Remus taught Shay Kelly's little brother," Dora announced, "You remember him, Mum, he couldn't say his Rs properly. Bit unfortunate considering his name was Rory,"

"Hmm," said Andromeda. She hadn't might eye contact with anybody all evening.

"He was a lovely lad," Remus nodded, gulping down a chunk of chicken. Andromeda had refused to cook this evening, leaving Ted to sort out the food. His wife was considerably better in the kitchen than he was, so tonight's dinner was chewy and soggy. From the look of Remus Lupin though, Ted suspected that he'd eaten a lot worse.

"And did _he_  know you were a werewolf?" Andromeda asked.

"Mum," growled Dora.

Ted stiffened, ready for an explosion from either end of the table.

"No," said Remus mildly, "None of the students knew,"

He had a soft, gruff voice with a slight accent. He was so polite it was almost unnerving, and he was managing to deflect Andromeda's sub-zero coldness with surprising dignity.

"Well they all know  _now,_ don't they?" Andromeda insisted.

"Yes,"

"So do you think it was a good idea, then, keeping it a-"

Dora interrupted before Ted could.

"That was three years ago, it's none of your business," she snapped.

"If he's marrying you I think it's definitely my business,"

"Dromeda-" said Ted quietly.

"Mum-"

"I was advised that discretion was the best policy, although in hindsight perhaps that was rather naive," said Remus.

"Advised by who? The Werewolves In Schools Council?" Dromeda taunted.

"By Dumbledore, actually,"

That shut everyone up.

* * *

Andromeda stormed off after Dora and Remus left and was pretending unconvincingly to be asleep by the time Ted had come up later. He'd left her to it, and she'd got up early for work the following morning and found some errands to run after. Lying in bed together that night was the first time Ted had had a chance to speak to his wife properly since the marriage bombshell had exploded. Except they weren't speaking to each other. Andromeda was glaring at the ceiling in pointed silence.

"Dromeda," Ted prompted, "Talk to me,"

She huffed. "What is there to  _say?"_

"Well, what did you think of him?"

"I believe I made that clear," Andromeda said coldly.

"You made it clear to him, at great upset to your daughter. But what about  _me._  Come on, tell me, honestly,"

Dromeda pushed her hair out of her eyes. It always spilt across her face at night, and Ted usually liked seeing her disordered like that. Then she sighed. "Well, he's clearly as poor as a church mouse. He was very clinical. He looks older than you, and you're her father. And he turns into a monster every few weeks. How's that, Ted? How's  _that?"_

"He wasn't clinical," said Ted, after a pause, thinking that this was the point he had the most chance of persuading her against, "He was being polite,"

"Polite, my cauldron bottom. You know what werewolves are like; foraging in bins, eating roadkill off the floor, living in woods and squats,"

"Dromeda, the man we met last night struck me as the type of person who doesn't know what a squat _is,"_

"Where d'you suppose he lives?" she pushed, half disdain, half lurid fascination.

"He's staying in one of Kingsley's safehouses until he moves in with Dora,"

"Silly me, I forgot _you_  know everything about him," Dromeda snarled.

"No, I don't. I met him yesterday, same as you,"

"But you've keen keeping this a secret for  _months._  I was worrying myself sick about her and-"

"Can you blame her for wanting to keep it a secret if this is your reaction?"

Andromeda rolled over in bed to face him. "Ted, can you honestly say you're pleased about this?"

"Of course I'm not pleased! Of course I'd prefer her to marry someone with a job and a house and a sickle to his name. Of course I'd prefer not to have been at school with my son-in-law. Of course I'd prefer him not to be a-" Ted cut himself off.

"She's not here, Ted. You can say it," Dromeda challenged, "Say you know he's a monster, he's a freak. We're going to have to spend the rest of our lives trying not to say it in front of Nymphadora, I think we can allow ourselves the liberty of being honest about it when she isn't here,"

"Mad-Eye said he's a nice man," Ted pointed out for what felt like the fiftieth time in twenty-four hours, "You trust Mad-Eye, don't you?"

"Of course, but- how do we know he isn't dangerous? How do we know he's not going to jilt her in five minutes' time?". Andromeda, Ted noted, still refused to call Remus by his name.

"Look, I know exactly what you're thinking because I've been through this all as well," he told her, "I've had months to digest this and you've only had a couple of days. But in the months I've had to fret about it I didn't expect him to be half as pleasant as the man we met last night,"

There was a point, Ted knew, to be made about himself and Dromeda, and everything their family had thought about him. But Dora had made that point several times in increasingly pointed and furious ways, so Ted didn't think it was worth pushing.

"He'll show his true colours sooner or later," Andromeda warned, then her voice changed, melting into a frightened shudder as she whispered, "I kept seeing him hurting her,"

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't stop imagining it. Couldn't you? She didn't tell me about him before, what if she doesn't again? You know she can morph away bruises,"

"Dromeda, have you forgotten that our daughter is an Auror?" Ted pointed out. He glanced sideways at her, and then back up at the eves.

"But he'll know how to duel too,"

"Why don't you speak to Mad-Eye? If I can't reassure you perhaps he can,"

"Hmm," Dromeda mumbled. There was silence for a moment, and then she said abruptly, "What  _on Earth_  do you suppose they talk about? They've got nothing in common,"

"The Order's pretty all-encompassing,"

"He doesn't talk like her. He doesn't dress like her. He doesn't look as if he likes any of things that she likes,"

"One minute you're scared he's a violent lunatic and now you reckon he's too boring," Ted said wearily.

"He can be both," Andromeda snapped, "Why are you so naïve?"

She'd hissed that to him a lot, back when they were teenagers and he didn't realise what the Blacks were like. He'd often wondered, then, how long it would be before her patience with him wore too thin.

It was Ted who needed patience now. "You're determined to expect the worst of him," he sighed.

"It's not expecting. I know. I  _know,"_ Dromeda hissed.

_We're going round in circles,_ Ted thought exasperatedly. He held out his arm to her.

"Hey. Come here,"

Dromeda huffed and looked irritated, but shuffled up to him anyway.

"It'll be alright. You and I always work things out, don't we?" Ted coaxed, kissing her on the forehead.

Andromeda didn't reply.

* * *

Ted rapped on the inn room door.

"Come in," said a hoarse Welsh voice.

Ted opened the door and stepped inside. The man who would be his son-in-law in an hour's time was standing in front of the mirror in a black suit (which was sharper, Ted observed, than anything he would have expected Remus to own). He'd already put on his jacket and tie, but only had socks on his feet.

"Hello, Ted," said Remus.

"Wotcher. You look nice," said Ted, then grimaced at the stupid compliment. To change the subject, he pulled two pint-bottles of Firewhiskey from his pocket and handed one to Remus.

"Thought you might fancy one of these," he said.

Remus took it, thanked him, and both men performed uncapping spells on their bottles before taking a swig. Ted swallowed and wondered what to say. Remus didn't supply a conversation-starter, so Ted commented vaguely, "Nice place, this,"

"Yes,"

"Have you been here before?"

"Nearby. On holiday when I was a boy," said Remus. He hesitated, then said, "My mother thought it very pretty"

"Pretty cold," Ted joked feebly.

"Yes, I suppose," Remus agreed. Ted got the impression he wanted to say something else, but he didn't, and they lapsed into silence. Ted looked out of the window for a moment, then back at Remus. He wondered if the man in front of him was goodlooking or not. Dora probably thought him the most handsome man in the world, and Andromeda believed him the vilest. Ted knew that the truth was somewhere between, but he wasn't sure where. Remus was, as far as Ted could see, rather plain. He was the sort of man one would walk past on the street without glancing at.

The silencing was threatening to smother them. "Been to any other weddings recently?" Ted asked.

"Not for a long time. But Bill Weasley's is on the first of August,"

"Oh yes. I expect Molly's making a song and dance about that". Ted hoped this observation would get a smile out of Remus, and it worked because the other man chuckled.

"You're probably right,"

Another silence descended, although this one was slightly more companiable than before.

"Thank you for this," said Remus unexpectedly, holding up his bottle, "And thank you very much for coming today. I know this isn't..." he tailed off embrassedly.

_This isn't what?_ thought Ted _, Ideal? Good timing? As much fun as the Wealsley wedding will be? The sort of wedding I would want for my only child? The sort of_  groom _I'd want for my only child?_ All of the above, and Ted would be lying if he said that this all wasn't a disappointment.

"No, it isn't," Ted acknowledged. He glanced up at Remus, who was looking at him through the mirror with a guilty expression on his face.  _You're not like they say you are,_  Ted thought _, you're not like Dromeda believes you are. You're alright_.

"But let's concentrate on what it is, eh son?" he said.

* * *

"Wonder how the Weasleys are getting on," Ted remarked to from behind his newspaper. It was a couple of weeks later, a few days after Harry Potter had crash-landed in their garden with Hagrid and a dead owl. Ted and Andromeda had got them away safely and received word that Nymphadora and Remus were safe too, but that Mad-Eye Moody had been killed. Ted knew that Dora would be taking Mad-Eye's death hard, and it stung a bit that she hadn't been round to see them since. She had her husband for comfort now, Ted supposed. It was hard to imagine that the old Auror was dead; he'd seemed indestructible. Missing half his face but still hard as nails. Ted had felt safer about Dora at work knowing she was with Mad-Eye.

"I heard they've invited Xeno Lovegood- imagine," Dromeda laughed. It was a cruel, mocking laugh which reminded Ted that although his wife had appeared to have lightened up in the last few days, she was ready to flare up at a moment's notice.

"His daughter's friends with Ginny and what's-his-name, the youngest boy," Ted explained.

"George?"

"No, George is one of the twins I think,"

"Ah yes, you're right. Gosh, there's so many of them it's difficult to keep track of-"

BANG!

The end of Andromeda's sentence was lost under the sound of a shout from outside, as the front door was blasted off its hinges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. Thank you for reading, please drop me a review. Andromeda didn't come across so sympathetically in this chapter, so if you'd like to see a more generous depiction of her, please check out Chapter 9 of my story Magpies. Thanks a lot.


	36. Spaghetti

He's known for a while that he has to tell her, but he isn't sure how. It's not exactly the sort of thing you bring up when you're over at your girlfriend's, is it? (Remus isn't entirely sure that Tonks  _is_ his girlfriend. It certainly feels like that but they haven't used those words for it: girlfriend, boyfriend, couple, item, dating. He doesn't know how to ask about that either). Sometimes he suspects that Tonks might have an inkling about it already, but if she does she's waiting for Remus to mention it first. So on Monday evening when she's over at his cottage, wolfing down the carbonara he's made (he likes cooking for her. He likes it when she comes home from work, pecks his cheek and sits down to dinner at his kitchen table. He likes the domesticity and normalcy of it, especially as so little else about them  _can_ be normal), he forces himself to say it out loud.

"I need to tell you something. I don't believe it's a bad thing but you might find it a bit strange,"

Tonks gulps down her mouthful of pasta. "Fire away,"

Remus looks at her, sitting opposite him in her tight black t-shirt and her purple hair, with her Auror robes draped on the back of the chair.

"When we were at school Sirius and I used to mess about," he says, cringing at his own evasiveness, "You know. Together,"

Tonks picks up her fork and sighs disinterestedly. "Well,  _yeah._ Course you did,"

He nearly chokes on his pasta. "You  _knew?"_

"Sirius told me,"

Remus balks. He'd suspected that she suspected, but he hadn't expected this. "What?  _When?"_

"About five minutes after the first Order meeting I came to," she says, smiling wickedly.

"Bastard," he hisses, and Tonks laughs.

"You don't mind, do you?" Remus adds, "We were teenagers, it was just-" Just what, exactly? Experimentation? Lust? Boredom? A joke that got out of hand? Finding someone who'd known him long enough and well enough not be revolted by what he is? "Just teenagers," he repeats.

Tonks swallows her next mouthful (she eats distractedly loudly, he's noticed), and says, "Will it make you feel better if I tell you that I was madly in love with him at about the same time,"

"Pardon?"

"Come  _on,_ you were obviously thinking it about him too. I was a little kid and he was my mad cousin who turned up unannounced, riding a motorbike and reeking of fags," she leaves a beat, then adds, "My taste in men has sophisticated since then,"

"I noticed," Remus grins, wondering if this is flirting. The thought makes him feel giddy.

"Don't tell him I told you or I'll never hear the end of it,"

"He told you about  _us,"_ Remus points out, but only to wind her up. He and Sirius have already had enough trouble with him thinking Tonks is in love with Padfoot. He's not about to open that can of worms again.

"That's different.  _I_  was a seven-year-old. You two were an actual item,"

The word surprises him. "Is that what Sirius said?" Remus asks, trying not to balk again.

"Dunno. That's what I thought he meant,"

"Umm. No. I wouldn't say that we were. We didn't go on dates or anything. I can't remember if I actually-" Remus cuts himself off, confused.

"Fancied him? It's alright, Remus, you can say it,"

"Yes, then. I don't remember if I actually fancied Sirius,"

Tonks hooks her foot between his, pins him with a look and says, "But you fancy me,"

_Nymphadora, I fancy you to death._ He runs his toe up the back of her calf.

"So, how d'you two end?" Tonks asks, after a moment of doing what Remus can only, madly, describe as gazing at him. She drains her glass and continues, "I imagine he wanted to go up in flames and you wanted to back away quietly,"

"Not really. We just...stopped,"

"Disappointing. I was hoping you crashed and burned,"

"Did he tell you that as well?"

"No, but you know what he's like. Always has to make a show of things,"

But Padfoot hadn't made a show of him and Remus. It had been private and tender and nice. Just nice. They hadn't pretended it was anything other than what it was, whatever it had been. Sirius is more understated and sensible than most people give him credit for, especially nowadays.

"Hmm," Remus murmurs, feeling suddenly morose, and stabbing aimlessly at his pasta.

"Remus?"

He looks up and forces another smile, but she doesn't buy it.

"You know I'm joking, right? Of course I don't mind,"

"No. I wasn't thinking about that," he admits. If it were almost anybody else asking he'd change the subject, but he often finds himself telling the truth to Tonks when he hadn't been expecting to.

"How old were you when he went to prison?" Remus asks, "Eight?" (It's not a guess- he knows, because he always knows how much younger she is than him because it's always so glaringly stark). She nods.

"D'you remember it?"

She nods.

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me-"

"Mum was awful. She cried loads and she was really angry. It was weird and confusing. I kept asking why we couldn't visit him,"

Remus nods thoughtfully. Weird and confusing- she's right.

"I think the two people it was worst on was you and my Mum," Tonks observes.

"And Sirius," Remus points out.

"Yeah, obviously. Come on, let's talk about something else- he'd kill himself laughing if he knew you and me were sitting around on date night talking about him,"

_You don't know what he'd do,_  Remus thinks,  _you don't know him because he disappeared when you were eight._

"Alright," he sighs.

Tonks reaches over, gives his hand a single tight squeeze, and announces, "I fell down some stairs today,"

She always tells him daft stories like this to cheer him up.

"Oh?"

"Right in the entrance hall. Crashed into one of the clerks and spilt ink all over her- total fiasco,"

"Of course you did," Remus smirks, "What did she say?"

"Dunno, I legged it," Tonks shrugs, and inexplicably, something about her tone makes Remus' heart flutter.

"Tonks, that's terrible," he reprimands.

"I was in rush! That's why I tripped in the first place, I was  _running,"_

"So you left this poor woman covered in ink?"

"Not  _covered,"_ she protests, "Only on her hands. And her shirt. And her shoes. Which makes it probably the least-disastrous day this month," she finishes.

He loves that she knows exactly how to time a punchline. Before they were together Remus had to try not to laugh too much at her jokes, but now they're...now they're what? In an undefined state where he allows himself to laugh with her properly? That's stupid and he knows it, and he hears himself blurt, "Are you my girlfriend?"

Carefully, Tonks puts her cutlery down. In the momentary silence Remus panics that he's misunderstood and she's going to yell at him to get out, that kisses and cuddling and dinner are fine, but putting on a label on it is a step too far and how dare he be so presumptuous and-

"Why don't you ask me?" Tonks replies, looking him in the eye.

"I am asking," Remus points out.

"No, why don't you ask me to be your girlfriend," she says. And she winks.

"Well, I don't know what you're going to say,"

"Won't know if you don't ask,"

He thinks this is good. She can't be insulted by the question if she's teasing him like this. "Nymphadora, will you be my girlfriend?"

There's a pause. Then she grins. "Yeah, you daft thing. Of course I'm your girlfriend,"

That was easier than he anticipated. It feels a bit anticlimactic now. "Right. Good. I'm your boyfriend then," Remus says awkwardly, testing the word out and finding that, unsurprisingly, it sounds ridiculous. For a start because he's an old man, not a boy, and because "boyfriend" makes him think of James, of Gid Prewett, of all the men he knows more suited to being anybody's boyfriend than he is.

"That's what I've been telling people when they ask," Tonks shrugs.

He looks up sharply, "I thought we agreed not to-"

" _A_ boyfriend, I say I have  _a_ boyfriend. I don't go telling everybody your name, address and vault number,"

"Alright, alright," Remus says quickly. She gets cross when he talks too much about how this has to stay private. She doesn't understand that he's trying to protect her.

Thankfully, Tonks takes the hint and changes the subject, saying, "Tell you what, though,"

"What?"

She scoops up another forkful of pasta, "If you weren't Sirius' boyfriend and you  _are_  mine, that's something I've  _definitely_ beaten him on".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your time. If you’d like more about Sirius and Tonks growing up, please check out my story Boy. Thanks, and have a fun weekend.


	37. Ted Talks: Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final installment of this three-parter. Warnings for language and violence.

Dromeda got to her feet first. She was slow and shaky, and had to drag herself up using the side of the armchair, which the Death Eaters had kicked over gleefully as they forced their way in.

"What are you doing?" Ted croaked. He was sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his split lip down to his chin. His head throbbed and he felt a stabbing pain in his elbows and knuckles. He could barely believe what had just happened.

"Sending Pylon," Andromeda answered, and she whistled for their owl. Pylon had taken cover outside when the Death Eaters barged into the house, and he fluttered nervously back in through the smashed window. The barn owl glanced between Andromeda and Ted, concerned.

"It's alright, it's alright," Andromeda assured Pylon, and the reassurance in her voice made Ted want to cry, "Give me my wand, will you?"

The Death Eaters had disarmed Ted and Dromeda, and for an awful moment Ted had thought that the Death Eaters were going to snap their wands. But the intruders had tossed them aside disinterestedly. They'd come for Ted and Andromeda, not for their wands.

Pylon flew over to where Dromeda's wand had landed, picked it up in his mouth, flew back to her and dropped the wand into her outstretched hand.. Quivering, Andromeda summoned parchment and a quill and tried to start writing.

"Ted, I can't do it, my hand's trembling," she said after a couple of attempts at getting ink on the page. A fat tear rolled down from her eye.

"I'll see if I can," said Ted, attempting to push his shoulders and spine up off the carpet. His muscles protested at the movement as, wincing, he crawled over to Andromeda .

"Who are you writing to?" he asked.

"The MacMillans. We'll have to tell Dora as well, won't we? Oh Merlin it's happened, Ted, it's  _happened"._  She shoved the parchment and quill at him frustratedly, and crumpled on the floor.

* * *

You could say a lot of things about Ted Tonks' daughter, but you'd be hard-pushed to claim that she wasn't good in a crisis. An hour after Pylon had disappeared into the sky, when Ted and Dromeda had managed to haul themselves onto the sofa and were clinging onto each other tightly, Dora barged into the house yelping that this was the soonest she could get there because interrogation at the Burrow had gone on for hours. She clattered into the living room, still in the dress she'd worn to the Weasley wedding, looked at them both for a searching, painful moment, batted a tear away from her eye and said, "Right. Right. Let's get you two upstairs". She and Remus levitated Ted and Andromeda into their bed, treated their wounds and put the vandalised furniture back in order. Upon discovering that the only sleeping draught in the house was out of date, Dora had sped off into the kitchen to brew more, leaving Remus upstairs with Andromeda and Ted.

"There's a bruise coming there," said Remus, indicating Dromeda's jaw. Ted felt a surge of fury pulse through him when he remembered the Death Eater walloping his wife across the face.

"Where's the balm?" asked Dromeda, and when Ted handed her the jar, her still-quaking fingers couldn't get the lid off. "For goodness sake," she muttered impatiently.

Remus held his hand out. "Let me,"

Andromeda eyed him distrustfully, then dropped the jar into his hand. Remus unscrewed the cap and tried to hand the balm back to Ted. Ted took one look at the purple hue spreading across Dromeda's jaw, and he knew he couldn't touch it. He could still hear the sound of the smack, and his clumsy touch would probably make it hurt more. He shook his head and pushed the balm back to Remus.

"You do it,"

"I'm not letting  _him!"_ barked Andromeda .

"I can't," Ted protested faintly, "You know it'll hurt if I do it. I don't want to do it," he added, voice cracking like a frightened child's.

"What about  _him?"_  Dromeda spat, and Ted could see tears sparkling in her eyes again. She was afraid. "He'll hurt me,"

"I won't," said Remus quietly, "I've done this plenty of times on myself after..." he tailed off and said finally, "I'll be careful, Mrs Tonks".

Ted's wife looked momentarily insulted that Remus had called her by her name. Then she stared at him for another stretching, tense moment, with an expression which Ted would have identified as anger, but with fear and hurt and something unfamiliar in there too. Tears tracked their way down Andromeda's face. Finally, she exhaled, nodded, and handed over the jar. And Andromeda let her werewolf son-in-law, with his gentle, elegant fingers, spread balm across her face.

* * *

Ted slept and woke intermittently for the next couple of days. He remembered Dromeda staggering out of bed, and a drowsy conversation with Dora in which she explained that the Ministry had fallen and she wouldn't, couldn't, go back to work.

"But don't worry about that now," she'd insisted, "Me and Remus'll stay to look after you."

When Ted finally woke up properly, his cuts had scabbed over and his bones didn't feel so painful. "We'll be fine," Dromeda told him, and Ted knew she was right.

Remus, meanwhile, had been brewing cups of tea and thanking them repeatedly for not giving the Death Eater's Harry's whereabouts.

"I'm a Black. You should know we're made of strong stuff," Andromeda told him sharply, but there was the trace of a smirk on her face when she said it. Perhaps, Ted thought, she was finally coming round to Remus Lupin. And then, the following morning, it happened. Ted and Dromeda were in bed when they heard Dora's footsteps pelt downstairs and the sound of the front door swinging open, then being slammed shut a few moments later. Footsteps scampered upstairs again and then Dora shoved open the bedroom door

"Have you seen Remus? Was he here?" she interrogated.

"No. What's happened?" asked Dromeda.

Dora took a couple of steps into the room and gripped the end of the bed. Her other hand clenched a piece of paper, crumping the side of it.

"Nymphadora?" Andromeda prompted apprehensively.

"He's- he's gone. Remus has gone,"

"Where? Who?" yelped Ted. The Death Eaters had come back? When? Why? Had he and Andromeda slept through it?

"No, I don't mean he's been taken," Dora said, and she sounded stunned and faint, "He's left,"

"Give me that," said Dromeda , holding her hand out for the paper.

Dora yanked it away. "He says our wedding was a mistake and he's realised he's got to leave for the good of me and the-"

She cut herself off and stared at the patterns on the stripey duvet cover.

"Me and the baby," she murmured, and looked up into Ted's face, "I'm pregnant,"

Ted felt his insides shrivel.  _No. Oh, please no._

Andromeda's voice was like ice _._ "What?"

Dora plopped herself down on the bed by Ted's feet. "Only a few weeks. We weren't going to say anything for a while, but-"

_"We?_  He knows? Your husband knows about this and he's up and left in the middle of the night?" Andromeda demanded.

Dora nodded. Ted felt like everything had suddenly wilted.  _Oh no. Come on Dora, you haven't…_ Pregnant,  _now?_  When all this was going on and she hadn't even been married a month? How were they going to afford it? How were they going to keep the child safe? The  _werewolf_  child. This would be all Christmases come at once for Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I'm sorry," Ted breathed, "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. It'll be okay, we'll sort something out, don't worry,"

But Dora didn't look like she was worrying. She nodded sadly, thoughtfully, and folded the note into her pocket. Then she climbed into bed beside Ted, and burrowed herself under the duvet.

* * *

"I told her. I warned both of you that this would happen. I knew this is what he was like. Wanted her for five minutes and the minute things get complicated he's out the door. Heaven forbid he has to spend any _money_ on her or the baby," Andromeda slammed the wardrobe door shut and continued her diatribe, "Or d'you think he _wanted_  to get her pregnant? That's how they make more of themselves nowadays, saves the trouble of finding victims to bite, and they get to ruin a poor woman's life in the bargain. I bet he's having a right laugh with all his little friends, 'Cygnus Black's grandaughter knocked up with a bastard werewolf mongrel'. How many more ruined women and fatherless children d'you think he's got squirreled away?"

Over the last three days Ted had listened to hundreds of these rants from his wife. Dromeda seemed to accept that Dora had enough to be dealing with at the moment, so kept her tirades for when she was out of earshot, which meant that Ted had to put up with them alone. But Andromeda was right. That first morning, the only time Dora had discussed what had happened, Ted had got the impression that Remus had panicked about the pregnancy. Ted understood that- he'd been barely out his teens when Andromeda had got pregnant. It wasn't planned it and it wasn't good timing, but they'd got through it  _together_. They'd shared their joys and concerns. Running away wasn't panic- it was cowardice and selfishness or, as Dromeda suspected, pre-mediated malice. That sounded far-fetched, but they were dealing with a werewolf. Who knew what he was capable of? Ted was furious at himself for how easily fooled he'd been before. Remus Lupin would not receive the benefit of Ted's doubt again.

There were other things to worry about too. The day after Remus left, a letter arrived for Mr Edward Gabriel Tonks., asking him to present himself at the Muggle-Born Registration Commission in the next thirty days.

_"Magic can only be passed on when wizards reproduce...obtained magical powers by theft...root out usurpers of magical power,"_  Ted read out loud. Then he ripped the letter into quarters and tossed the pieces in the fire.

"This is bonkers," declared Dora, who had been reading over his shoulder, "How can you take magic by force?"

"You can't," Ted told her, trying to sound less aghast than he felt, "It's bollocks, it's fear-mongering. I'm not signing some bloody register. Muggle-Born Registration Commission? Fuck 'em,"

"Yeah," nodded Dora grimly, "Fuck 'em".

* * *

Andromeda had gone back to work but they all agreed it was too dangerous for Ted, at least for the next few days. The Order of the Phoenix were lying low too, so Ted and Dora were left at home with their fear.

"Well this is boring," Dora announced halfway through the second game of chess, on the third day of staying home. The hot weather had broken and it was raining outside. They'd turned the radio off to get a break from the news and the accusations about Harry.

"Snap instead?" Ted suggested.

"That's not what I meant,"

Ted had half-expected a return to the brown hair and mopiness of before but, after that first morning's shock, Dora had adopted a grim, seethingly furious attitude to Remus' departure. In fact, she'd hardly mentioned her husband or what had happened. It was perplexing, but, Ted had to admit, better than tears.

"No, I know," he nodded. Dora groaned irritably, and kicked the toe of her Doc Martin into the coffee table.

"Are you okay?" asked Ted, "About, you know," he hesitated, "…Remus,"

Dora kicked the table again, harder, "No, Dad, I'm thrilled about being up the duff with no job and no husband in a world which has just been taken over by Death Eaters. Absolutely chuffed," she growled, "But I've got the baby now, haven't I? Can't be falling apart again,"

In all the madness, "pregnant" had seemed more of an unfortunate condition that something which would result in a baby in eight months' time. Ted hadn't felt any excitement about his grandchild, and only a twinge of horror that he was going to become a Grandpa in his forties.

"Yes, I'm keeping it," Dora added firmly, "I know Mum wants me to get rid of it but I'm not going to,"

"Okay, okay". Ted held his hands up. He prodded his rook forward, so that two of Dora's pawns leapt forward to scale it, and the bishop started to pray. Outside, rain spattered onto the window, and the drainpipe gurgled beside it.

* * *

"Ted! Ted!"

It was Saturday, the first Saturday of this brave new world. Ted was in the loft sorting through his record collection when Andromeda yelled up the stairs. He stuck his head down through the loft trapdoor.

"Yes? Everything alright?"

"Remus is back. He's come back just now,"

Ted's first reaction was rage. His second was elation. His third was worry. "Where's Dora?"

Dromeda came into view on the landing. She was raking a hand through her dark hair and looking baffled.

"She's gone outside with him. I told her not to but she didn't listen; she never listens when it comes to that dreadful man,"

"Did he say where he's been? Did he offer any kind of justification for leaving his pregnant wife in the night?" Ted demanded. The least Remus could give them was answers.

"Of course not," Dromeda snapped.

"Well, where've they gone?"

"I don't know. She'll have to come back, she didn't take anything with her,"

"They might have gone back to their flat," Ted pointed out.

_"Her_  flat," Andromeda corrected, "Which  _we_  put the deposit on and which he won't have contributed a knut to the rent,"

Being taken advantage of financially by an unemployed werewolf made Ted angry too, but that wasn't the pressing concern right now.

"Alright," Ted told Dromeda, climbing down the loft ladder towards her, "One thing at a time. Let's give it an hour and if we don't hear anything we'll send Pylon,"

"An hour? She's walking the streets with a werewolf! She's already been interrogated by Death Eaters and my sister's probably desperate to get her hands of them both,"

Ted put his hands on Dromeda's shoulders. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll wait  _half_  an hour, then, and we'll owl her flat,"

But they only had to wait another fifteen minutes before Dora re-appeared, dripping wet on the doorstep.

"Dora, thank Merlin-"

"I'm going home," she announced.

"With Remus?" snapped Dromeda

"Yes,"

Andromeda eyed her daughter intensely. After a long pause, she said, "Nymphadora, you're a fool,"

Dora shrugged.

"Are you  _sure?"_  asked Ted.

"No, to be honest. Not really. But we need to talk and we're not going to get it done anywhere else. He's tired and hungry-"

"He deserves it," Andromeda cut across, "It's not your job to feed him and wait on him. Twice he's walked out on you when he's got cold feet, what's to stop it being three? Four? Do you want your child to spend its life asking if Daddy's going to come back this time?"

"I'd prefer to give it a chance to have its dad around all the time. Look, I'm not falling into his arms if that's what you think this is. I haven't forgiven him and I might not, and if I do I'm still going to tear him a new one,"

"Good," said Ted, "Tear him a third from me,"

Dora smirked. "I'll see you later," she promised, "Thanks for looking after me these last few days,"

"I think it was you looking after us," Ted pointed out.

She shrugged, "Whichever. See you soon. Bye,"

"Nymphadora-"

"Mum. Bye," she said firmly. Then she hopped down the steps and walked away down the path, clanging the gate shut behind her.

Ted and Dromeda looked at each other.

"That wastrel is going to be the death of her," Andromeda hissed.

Ted put a hand on her shoulder again. "Unless you murder him first".

* * *

August wore on. More letters came for Ted, inviting, then asking, then insisting that he report to the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. Anti-Muggle-born propaganda started appearing plastered on street corners and taking up full-page adverts in the Prophet. The MacMillan's Muggle-born housekeeper disappeared on her way home one evening. There was no way to pretend that the situation was anything other than frighteningly serious.

Bored of unemployment, Dora began applying for jobs. It was best to lie low so they were all low-paid jobs far below her ability level, which made Andromeda cross.

"It's only until the Winter," Dora insisted when she and Remus came over for dinner at the end of her first week working in a potion-bottle factory, "Or until the bump starts showing. I don't want to have to start explaining things to people,"

"And what about you?" Andromeda asked witheringly, turning to Remus, "Are _you_  going to provide for your child?"

In the weeks since he'd come back, Remus had endlessly apologised and explained why he'd left. He'd pled fear, shame, discombobulation, a misguided attempt to do the right thing. He'd hung his head, looking small and ashamed, and like an old man and a child at the same time. Remembering what he'd vowed about not giving Remus the benefit of the doubt, Ted had tried not to let his son-in-law's shame stir sympathy in him.

"I understand if you won't forgive me," Remus had said. Ted wasn't sure if he did. Andromeda definitely hadn't. Remus' return seemed to have made her more suspicious of him than his departure had, and she'd probed him with questions. Dora, who refused to discuss what had happened, had told her to drop it, and she'd made sure not to leave Remus alone in a Dromeda since. When it was Ted, Remus and Andromeda alone together (which had only happened a couple of times when Dora had gone to the toilet), Dromeda bridled, ready to attack, and Ted had had to talk loudly about the weather as a diversion.

"I've sent in some applications. Muggle jobs," Remus said timidly.

"Remus knows loads about Muggle jobs," piped up Dora, "He's really good with computers,"

"Oh, yes?" said Ted, to keep the conversation going. He'd used a computer a few times and new the basics.

"Well, a bit," Remus shrugged.

"Arthur can't get enough of asking him about it," said Dora proudly, "D'you know he's got four TVs in his garage? And a photocopier,"

She was trying to make them laugh, but it didn't really work.

* * *

Later, sheltering from the rain under a beech tree with Dean by his side, Ted would reflect of the things he should have said to Remus when they bid goodbye. It had become clear that Ted would have to leave for good, and no amount of reassurance or pleading would change his mind. Despite Dromeda's protests, Dora and Remus had promised to stay with her once Ted had gone, so the three of them had been there when Ted left on that grey Thursday morning. Ted should have warned Remus not to leave again. He should have told him to be brave. He should have told Remus to look after Dora and Dromeda, and that they'd look after him in return. Ted should have told him to stay safe and to stop Dora diving into any duels while she was pregnant. He should have asked Remus how likely it was that the child would be werewolf. He should have warned him how unpleasant Dromeda's labour had been, so Remus was warned about how endless and distressing it was and how useless it felt to be a man during it. Ted should have warmed Remus to stay on his toes now that he wasn't there as a buffer between Remus and Andromeda. He should have added that Dromeda had old-fashioned views about raising children which were best ignored. He should have told him that, just about, Ted thought he was a decent bloke. But in the moment Ted's thoughts had been with the wife and daughter he was about to say goodbye to, not the son-in-law he'd only met two months ago. So Ted merely shook his hand and let Remus wish him good luck.

* * *

"You're in seventh year, aren't you, Dean?"

"If I was still at school. At least I'm missing my exams, eh?" the boy grinned. They were walking across a muddy field in Northumberland, searching aimlessly for somewhere to sleep tonight.

"Yeah," Ted agreed, then returned to the subject, "So you were taught by Remus Lupin?"

Dean nodded. "In third year I think,"

"Did you like him?"

"Course. He was probably out best Defence teacher. I remember our first lesson he made Snape appear in a dress. He was really safe about me being dyslexic, never marked me down for my spelling. He's a good guy,"

Ted looked at him. "You know he's a werewolf?"

"Oh, right. Forgot about that," said Dean. He had a habit of stretching out his vowels with an upward inflection. "Yeah, Seamus was freaked out about it but I didn't know werewolves are supposed to be savage and all that. Normally I mean, obviously they're savage when they transform. But Professor Lupin seemed alright to me. D'you know him, then?" Dean asked.

They were approaching the fence. Dean would be able to climb over but Ted would have to Apparate to the other side. "I do,"

"How?"

"He's a relative,"

"Woah. You're not a werewolf too, Ted?" grinned Dean. He was a nice boy. Jokey and smiley. He spoke his mind and didn't seem especially traumatised about everything that was going on.

"No, we're not blood relatives," Ted explained.

"Oh. You mean he's married?"

"Yeah," Ted confirmed. He was going to keep the next part of the sentence in his head, but he heard himself say it out loud, "He's married to my daughter,"

"No  _way!"_  gasped Dean, stopping in his tracks to face Ted, "That's pretty cool, Ted,"

"D'you reckon?"

"He's a cool guy,"

Ted was surprised by this unexpected praise. "That's very nice of you to say, Dean,"

"If we ever get out of this mess, you can tell him I said that".

* * *

"I've been thinking about names again," Remus said over breakfast one morning. It was the middle of March and the weather was just starting to perk up. His wife was bored of being so heavily pregnant even though the baby wasn't due for another few weeks.

"Right," said Tonks.

"If it's a boy- I'll understand if you don't want to- but what if we named him after your dad?". The idea had been brewing in Remus' head for a few weeks but he was slightly nervous about voicing it out loud.

Tonks put her spoon down and smiled at him, touched. "Oh, Remus. That's lovely,"

"Really?". He hadn't been sure what she'd say.

"Yeah. Would have made him dead proud,"

"I suppose we'll have to see what your mum says too," he added. Perhaps Dromeda would think it was too soon, or that they were trying to replace her husband.

"Okay," Tonks agreed, "But I like it. Ted Lupin. Teddy, maybe,"

"Yes," said Remus, thinking of his father-in-law. How Ted had repeatedly deflected Andromeda's hostility away from him even when he didn't deserve it. How Tonks had told him that her dad trusted her to know what she was doing. How Ted hadn't once asked him any lurid, probing questions about being a werewolf. How they'd shared a Firewhiskey on the morning of the wedding.

"Yes," Remus said again, "Teddy".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this three-parter. If you have any comments, corrections, complements or criticisms, please let me know in the reviews. Thank you.


	38. The Human

"Do you mind if you're not the love of my life anymore?"

She was leaning against Remus’ side while the baby drifted off to sleep on her lap after feeding. Tonks might have been biased, but she was pretty sure that Teddy was the most perfect human ever to exist.  It was astonishing how much she liked this mothering lark. After all, she was hardly Molly Weasley when it came to domestic stuff, she’d anticipated dropping the kid on its face, and it was barely a secret that her own mother had liked babies so little that she'd stopped at one (when she was younger, Tonks had spent a grumpy afternoon moaning about this and nagging for a younger sibling, only to go off the idea when Dad pointed out that she'd have to share her toys). So much had happened during the pregnancy it had been easy to lose track of the fact that a physical human baby was going to turn up at the end of it, needing feeding and changing and burping. But he had turned up and honestly, being his mum was the best thing that had ever happened to Tonks. She loved his staring eyes. She loved that he was a human body in miniature. She loved cuddling him when he was warm and full and sleepy like this.  Breastfeeding was complicated at first but they were getting the hang of it now, together. The fact that Teddy seemed to be permanently hungry was knackering, but at least it meant that they got a lot of practice at feeding, and it made Remus pleased.

"I like him being hungry," he'd tried to explain, "I feel like 'There's my son, he wants to grow up big and strong'. All a bit primal, isn't it?". Usually he hated anything animistic like that in himself, but he'd been grinning, and he grinned all the time these days. Tonks had never known him to be so contented and calm for so long. Their son was a real Daddy's boy already. Remus was the best at making him stop crying, and Teddy didn't kick so much when it was his dad changing his nappy. _Finally,_ Tonks thought, _there’s somebody in the world who thinks you as marvellous as I do._

Mum was different too. She'd been doing that Black stiff-upper-lip stoicism since Dad died, and then breaking down every few days. She'd been _quiet_ too, which wasn't like her at all, and when she did speak she was detached and more impatient than usual, and then she'd get upset with herself for snapping. Her grandson seemed to have given her purpose again. Tonks, Remus and the baby were still living at Mum and Dad's house, so Mum was busy tidying up, organising the perplexingly huge amount of washing a tiny baby produced, or explaining to a flummoxed Remus how the gate on Teddy's cot worked.

And then there was Teddy himself, the most glorious person in the universe. He had Tonks’ hair (well, sort of. It usually flickered between green and blue, and flared red when he was screaming) and Mum's eyes and everything else was Remus. He kicked a lot. He smelt soft and clean. His cried weren't a "Waaah!" but an "Eee-yar!".  His grip was tiny and brittle and fierce. So far he hadn’t weed on any of them when having his nappy changed, although apparently that joy would occur at some point. He didn’t like silence, and was happiest when being sung to or hearing people talk; the radio and the record-player had certainly got a lot of use over the last few weeks

Mum and Remus hated the "when all this is over" conversation. They both played the "well, we thought it was over last time" card, which made Tonks roll her eyes. What was the point of the Order and Potterwatch and getting on with their lives if they couldn't imagine what the world would be like when they'd won? When they did, when it _was_ over, Tonks would go back to work and Remus would stay home with Teddy. Tonks imagined coming home to them, her boys, to find Remus telling Teddy a story or playing him music. When Teddy got older Remus could play games and  teach him to read, make things with him and take him to the playground. It wouldn't matter that he couldn't get a job because he'd be raising their child. Teddy was going to be so sweet and so smart, just like his dad. She could tell.

Right now, Remus was sitting beside her with a book on his knee, although he hadn’t turned a page for about ten minutes. He’d been watching them Tonks and Teddy instead. He closed the book, rested his chin on top of Tonks’ head, kissed his fingers and stroked them on Teddy’s forehead.

"No. I don't mind at all".


	39. Haunting

_Why do birds sing so gay,_

_And lovers await the break of day?_

_Why do they fall in love?_

_Why does the rain fall from up above?_

_Why do fools fall in love?_

_Why do they fall in love?_

_-_ Frankie Lyman and the Teenagers

Sirius hates them. He should probably feel guilty about this, but he doesn't. Spending twelve years in prison for a crime you didn't commit gives you an odd relationship to guilt. He hates being with the two of them together, but given the circumstances that's often unavoidable. At Order meetings they drool at each other from opposite sides of the table- they're so  sickeningly obvious that it's a miracle hardly anybody else has found out about them. Remus likes to think he's a master of subtlety but they could hardly be less subtle if Nymphadora had "Shagging the werewolf" written across her forehead. Sirius hates the coy, unsure way Lupin looks at her. G _et a grip, Moony,_ he wants to snap,  _a girl half your age throwing herself at you? You wouldn't turn that down even if you weren't getting zero other offers._ He hates the way Tonks gazes at Moony; possessive, enamoured.  _What's there to be possessive about?_ Sirius wants to sneer,  _You don't know him._ I  _know him._ Sirius hates the way she touches him too. Nymphadora holds Remus like she's his Mum or something, clearly overcompensating for how blatant their age difference is.

Sirius hates when they turn up at Grimmauld together; it makes him feel like he's their senile grandmother who they have a duty to visit. It hurts to know that Moony and Tonks have been couple-hanging-out and he wasn't invited. Sirius misses them, that's all. That isn't a crime, is it? (Spending twelve years in prison for a crime you didn't commit gives you an odd relationship to criminality). He misses both of them. He had a few months of having his best friend back to reminisce and laugh and talk everything through with, and he had his baby cousin back to wind up and be Black with. Now they've drifted away from him and towards each other, and Sirius is left out in the cold. They don't mean to make him feel that way, but their looks and their visiting him together and their "Sorry, I'm not around tonight, I'm seeing Remus,” makes him feel redundant. Is this what it’s like for Harry, stuck in middle of Ron and Hermione? Remus slept  _here_ most of the Summer, in the spare room next to Sirius'. Now Dumbledore's got him doing overnight surveillance, and on his free nights Lupin goes home to his cottage or he's with Tonks. He only stays over in the spare room once a week these days. It's so quiet here without him.

Sirius misses who they used to be too. He hates that Nymphadora's no longer the little kid who used to sit on his lap and tangle her fingers in his hair and dollop sloppy kisses on him. Now the little girl is gone and it's Remus who gets her on lap and gets her fingers in his hair and her kisses. Sirius hates that everybody calls her by her surname now, like she's a different person. He feels betrayed, somehow, that she grew up without him. Spending twelve years in prison for a crime you didn't commit gives you an odd relationship to betrayal.

He misses Remus the most. Young Remus, whose cynicism was amusing, who had properly brown hair and whose knees didn't crack when he stood up. Schoolboy Remus with his books and his prefect badge and his choirboy treble, unbroken for three years after Sirius's own voice dropped. Moony now is so  _old._ Not only his hair and his craggy voice and his crow's feet, but in his resigned jadedness and exhaustion. In the way he patronises Sirius and bosses him around (schoolboy Remus wouldn't dare). He feels betrayed that Remus grew old.

Sirius is offended that they don't remember each other from back then. Remus _had_ come round to Andromeda's house at least a few times; Sirius can remember them all sitting round the dining table talking. Lupin and Ted would chat about Muggle stuff while Sirius and Andromeda drank too much and talked Black, and Nymphadora would get cross that she wasn't getting enough attention so would start turning her hair green. It grates on Sirius that neither of them remember that but they're together now. As if that life didn't exist. Like Lupin-and-Tonks have become their own entity and Sirius, who knew both of them first, is their spare part. It's like James and Lily all over again except Sirius is older and bitterer. Perhaps Remus _does_  remember those times at Andromeda’s house, Sirius considers, but is pretending he's forgotten so that this thing with Nymphadora doesn’t make him feel like a creep. Moony's always been good at repression.

The infuriating aspect of all this is that Sirius knows he's to blame, at least in part. He egged them on from the beginning- "I reckon she fancies you, mate", "Of course he isn't gay, Nymphadora, haven't you noticed who he's always looking at?"- it was a laugh, a little project,  _something_ to occupy his brain while he's stuck in this godforsaken house. And it had wound them both up something rotten- "Don't be ridiculous, Padfoot", " _Me?_  He doesn't look at  _me,_  he _doesn't!_ ". Sirius hadn't expected them to  _actually get together_. That's rather ruined the joke. The joke's on Sirius now, but for the sake of his pride, and to spare himself an excruciating conversation with Lupin where Remus explains that it's nothing personal, Sirius can't let them know how angry they make him. So he has to keep teasing and sniggering and winding them up; "Is it me, Moony, or is that a new bite you've got on your neck?", "Remus hasn't been here all day, Tonks, and yet I can smell his soap? That's strange isn't it?", "This is my father’s study.  I think it would be a fitting tribute to his memory if you used this room for all future amorous activities”.

And fine, he'll admit it- he's jealous. Not that Lupin's with Tonks specifically- that's disgusting, she's his cousin, she's a kid- but that he's having fun, getting laid, doing  _something_ with his life which isn't the damn Order and this damn house. He's living, which is more than can be said for what Sirius is doing in here.

Sirius is so lonely.


	40. The Picture

_"Hogwarts portraits behave like their subjects. The portrait will be able to use some of the subject’s favourite phrases and imitate their general demeanour. However, these portraits would be capable of having a particularly in-depth discussion about more complex aspects of their lives: they are literally and metaphorically two-dimensional"._

\- JK Rowling on Pottermore 

_Well tonight I'm takin' requests here in the kitchen,_

_This one's for you, Ma, let me come right out and say it,_

_It's overdue, but baby_

_If you're looking for a sad song, well I ain't gonna play it_

\- Bruce Springsteen, _The Wish_  

There's a picture of Teddy's parents on the Astronomy Tower staircase. Mum, Dad, Sirius, Emmeline, Fred Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody- Order of the Phoenix members who died during the Second War. Dumbledore and Snape have spots there too, although they're usually in their other (proper) portraits in the headmistress' office. Everyone expects the picture to make Teddy feel special and happy and like it makes things better. He's supposed to feel proud and, at first, he did. Teddy spent plenty of evenings in first-year sitting in front of the picture, looking at his parents and talking to them.

"We love you so much," Dad had said, "We are so proud of you". Mum had cried and told him how much she missed him. You weren't supposed to touch portraits but Mum liked Teddy to put his hand on the painting, and she'd hold her hand up too like they were touching. Sometimes Teddy brought his friends to meet them (Mum didn't cry then), and at the end of second-year he'd asked their advice on what he should take for OWLs.

"Don't bother with Divination, it's a waste of time," Mum recommended.

"What did you get in it?" Teddy asked.

"Failed,"

"Same! High-five!" piped up Fred, holding his hand up. Mum slapped her against it.

"Muggle studies is a laugh, though. Really useful if you meet any Muggle girls around," Fred continued, winking.

"He sees our Muggle families though, don't you, Teddy?" insisted Mum, indicating herself and Dad.

"Yeah,"

"So, he doesn't really need to take an OWL in it,"

"What are you interested in?" asked Dad, sitting down in front of Teddy.

"Umm. Well, I like Herbology. I like Potions,"

"If you like Herbology perhaps you might like Care of Magical Creatures," Dad suggested.

"Muggle Studies and Magical Creatures? Soft options," scoffed Mad-Eye, "By all accounts you're a bright lad so it's Ancient Runes and Arithmancy for you,"

"There's no such thing as a soft option, although it's worth challenging yourself," said Dad.

"Care of Magical Creatures is a soft option?!" piped up Sirius, "Try running round with a werewolf once a month and see how soft _that_  is!"

That conversation had taken place a year and a half ago. Teddy's in fourth-year now (he took Ancient Runes and Divination for OWL) and the picture doesn't make anything better anymore. It makes everything worse.

Dad likes to go from portrait to portrait learning about the people in them. Teddy will often be walking down a corridor and hear Dad's voice call, "Hello, Teddy. Having a nice day?" from a picture frame. Then Dad'll want to introduce him to whichever portrait he's hanging out with.

"It's very interesting," he promises.

Or he wants to talk to Teddy about school and friends and whatever: "Hello, Teddy. What are you up to?"

"Going to my lesson, Dad. What does it look like?" Teddy mutters. He can't be bothered to talk to him; Dad isn't going to say anything useful or meaningful. He never does.

Mum tends to stay in the Astronomy Tower picture, which means there's less chance of unexpectedly meeting her around the castle. But Mum is so  _embarrassing_. She gets excited every time she sees Teddy, waves like a nutcase and yells at Mad-Eye, Emmeline and the others to come over to look at him, see how tall he's getting, how cool his hair looks today (he's starting morphing his hair brown when he passes the picture). His friends think it's cute.

"Hi, Teddy's Mum! Hi, Teddy's Dad!" they call, or "It's  _so_  cool your parents hang out with Dumbledore," or "Your Mum's pretty fit, Ted".

His friends don't understand. Nobody understands because nobody spent those hours in first and second year hanging off the picture's every word, so nobody's realised that their words are empty. The figures in the picture are like a broken toy, saying the same things again and again. "Hello, Teddy. Having a nice day?" "How's your homework going?" "Wotcher, Teddy! Wotcher, Teddy!". Teddy hates her saying that. Must be something she picked up at school, or one of Grandad's phrases, because Granny never says it. Grandad doesn't have a portrait. Wotcher, Teddy. Watch-ya, Teddy. Watch you, Teddy. They're always watching him.

They're always happy too, which frustrates Teddy. Mum and Dad weren't always happy- they got angry and confused and upset like normal people.  _Real_  people. The people in the picture are not real. A couple of days before the Christmas holiday last year Teddy had caught them snogging in a frame outside Transfiguration. The frame was empty apart from the two of them, but it was still in a busy corridor, and it had made Teddy angry because he knows that his real parents would never have been that open. Everybody who knew them has told him that Dad would hardly touch Mum in public, let alone kiss her. That's the version of them we wants, not this lie. The liars in the portrait taunt him about what he doesn't have. They look like his parents but they're not- they're wrong. They're not even a picture, they're a cartoon. Harry would say it's better having the portrait than having nothing at all, but Harry would say that, wouldn't he?

* * *

It's Wednesday afternoon and Teddy's halfway down the Astronomy tower stairs before he realises that he's left his textbook back up in the classroom. Bollocks. They only started having Astronomy theory lessons this year. They're in the daytime, which is a relief because Teddy always feels exposed on top of the tower at night. In first-year there were whispers behind his back during night-time Astronomy lessons; kids muttering about the moon and the mongrel boy. Murmurs like that had followed him round a lot in the first couple of years of school, and Vic gets them now, though while Teddy ignores the whisperers and sniggerers, Vic confronts them. Like a lot of things about Vic, Teddy kind of likes it and kind of finds it irritating.

Teddy mumbles an apology to his friends and jogs back upstairs to the classroom. He elbows open the classroom door, stammers an explanation to Professor Sinistra, grabs his textbook from where he left it on his desk, and dashes out of the room. He's late for Potions now and hurtling down the stairs, forgetting that the picture is waiting for him on the landing. Until a voice calls out to him.

"Wotcher, Teddy! What's up?"

Teddy cringes.

"Teddy! Hi!" yells the voice again. It's The Woman- he's trying to stop thinking of them as Mum and Dad. Teddy can hear the next class clattering up the stairs. He doesn't want them to hear The Woman calling after him, so he decides to talk to her for a moment so he can shut her up before the next class get here.

"What do you want?" Teddy growls. Snape and Dumbledore aren't there but all the rest are. Sirius and Fred are tossing Moody's eye to each other, while Mad-Eye grumbles at them. The Man is chatting to Emmeline.

The Woman's gazing at Teddy dreamily. "You're getting so grown-up. Come here and let me look at you,"

Teddy doesn't move.

"You're so handsome. You look just like your Dad. Mad-Eye, don't you think he's handsome?"

(Next time, Teddy thinks grimly, he will morph himself as ugly as he possibly can). Everybody in the picture turns to look at him. The Man's smile is sad.

"How much is your real face? Come on, you can tell me," stage-whispers The Woman, "I promise I won't tell anybody,"

Her friendly, conspiratorial tone makes something inside Teddy snap.

"Stop it! Stop it now!" Teddy shouts.

Everybody in the picture jumps.

"Sorry, mate," grins The Woman, "I'm your Mum, it's my job to embarrass you,"

"You're not my Mum," Teddy snarls.

"Well, that's not very-"

"SHUT UP!" Teddy bellows, "Shut up shut up shut  _up!_  You're not my Mum! My Mum's _dead_  so will you shut up and leave me alone!"

He kicks the wall beside the picture so hard that it hurts. Teddy swears under his breath, then swears loudly at the people in the picture, turns and storms away down the stairs. He puts his head down and doesn't look back.

The Man calls after him in a maddeningly gentle tone, "It's alright, Teddy, it's alright. I'm sorry. Listen, let's-"

The Man's voice is lost in the sound of the footsteps and chattering of the next Astronomy class. Teddy pushes through the crowd of sixth-year Gryffindors and hurries on down the stairs. Frustration and satisfaction and pain are buzzing around inside him. He didn't know how much everything he'd said had been weighing on him until now, when he's got the weight off his shoulders. Teddy knows that he's supposed to feel guilty for shouting and swearing and saying those things to them. Granny would tell him it was rude and hurtful and ungrateful. Teddy Lupin doesn't feel guilty at all, and arrives in Potions with a smirk on his face.

 


	41. #JustWerewolfThings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a mammoth. Warnings for language and sex, but nothing major. Hope you enjoy.

**July**

"You. In here. Now," growls Mad-Eye, prodding Tonks into the scullery and shutting the door behind them. She winces- he only addresses people as "you" if he's cross with them.

She tries to make light of his abruptness. "Flattered by your interest, Mad-Eye, but you're not really my type,"

"Lupin," he states, folding his arms.

She wasn't expecting that. "What about him?"

"Don't play stupid with me, you're not stupid," Mad-Eye says impatiently.

"No, I just have no idea what you're on about," Tonks retorts.

"Show me your hand,"

Tonks huffs and holds both her palms up for inspection. There's a plaster peeling from her left-hand index finger where she'd cut it on a chipped plate when helping Molly with the washing-up earlier. Mad-Eye takes Tonks' hand in his and rips off the plaster. Hard.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Lupin's still around and you're going to go out there and speak to him," Mad-Eye orders.

"Why?"

"I saw that with the plaster earlier. He was trying to help you, but you wouldn't let him because of the bleeding,"

_Damn that magical eye, T_ onks groans inwardly.

"He won't start trying to eat you because he smells a bit of blood," Mad-Eye snipes, "Any stupid suspicions you've got in your head about werewolves, you need to forget about. He's as human as the rest of us,"

"Well, technically not _quite,"_  she can't resist pointing out.

"Technically my arse. You've heard that werewolves like kids, I suppose- does he look like he's going to bite any of the Weasley brats?"

"No," she admits.

"No. So if I catch you looking at him funny or not wanting him to see blood or dousing yourself in mercury on your way into this house, I'll have Kingsley put you in charge of his paperwork backlog for the rest of the year," Mad-Eye threatens.

"Okay, I get it," Tonks huffs. She hates it when Mad-Eye gets all don't-mess-with-me on her, "I just- I've only met, you know,  _savage_ werewolves before. Haven't sat down to dinner with one,"

"Get used to it," Mad-Eye snarls. He crumples the plaster in his hand and barges back through the door, leaving Tonks standing in the scullery alone.

* * *

**August**

"What d'you need doing, Molly?" Tonks chirps, following Mrs Weasley into the kitchen. Molly Weasley is  _brilliant._ She's mum to everyone in the Order, she makes awesome cakes, and she winds Sirius up something rotten. Kingsley insists that their rivalry isn't anything to be laughed at, but Tonks finds it amusing, especially as Sirius always needs taking down a peg or two. Lots has changed since he went to Azkaban, but that hasn't.

"Could you put these in an arrangement on the table," Molly suggests, pointing to a tray cutlery, "We're not having a sit-down meal tonight,"

"Right, got it,"

"But  _be careful,_ Tonks," warns Molly, "This is Sirius' best family silverware,"

"You know he won't care about that," Tonks points out, as Mrs Weasley hands her the tray. It's creaky and splintery, and Tonks curls her fingers so that she's carrying the tray on her knuckles instead of her palms.

" _He_ might not but my father would have bent his broomstick to see this sort of thing," Molly says shortly.

"I thought your dad was one of us?" Tonks asks.

"One of what?"

"A Black,"

Molly doesn't say anything and busies herself checking on the onions. Tonks suspects she might have put her foot in her mouth, so changes the subject:"Still, tonight deserves best silverware, doesn't it? You must be chuffed about Ron getting prefect,"

"Some good news at last," Molly beams, "I always knew he had it in him. He looked so surprised about it, he's such a sweet boy; he never expects anything. He's used to playing second-fiddle to Harry and Hermione and he doesn't want to show off in front of them, but I know he's proud of himself. He deserves it..." she bustles back into the kitchen, chuntering away merrily about her youngest son.

Tonks sets a couple of knives down on the table, then the forks beside them, wondering what sort of "arrangement" cutlery should go in for a party. It'll be a relief not to be all crammed in round the dinner table, but artistic table-design isn't really her forte.

"Hello," says a familiar deep voice from the door way. Kingsley's there, with Sirius and Remus behind him.

"Ron and Hermione prefects, that's excellent news," smiles Remus, looking up at the banner above the table. Kingsley, however, frowns. Sirius' lip curls disgruntledly.

"Say that again when Molly's in earshot, she'll probably kiss your feet," Tonks recommends.

"I'd rather not," sighs Sirius. He turns and stalks back through the door. Kingsley and Remus grimace at each other.

"What's up with him?" Tonks asks. She'd expected Sirius to be pleased about the party and excited for Ron and Hermione. And he'll have a laugh at Molly's hysterics.

"He's not looking forward to everybody going back to school tomorrow," says Remus patiently, "Especially Harry. I'll talk to him,"

He goes to follow Sirius out of the room, but Kingsley interrupts, "You're always dealing with him, Remus. Let me,"

Remus considers, then nods in acquiesce.

"See you later," Kingsley says, and leaves through the door. Remus puts his hands in his pockets and a slightly awkward silence settles. Tonks has been trying to be nice to him after the whole blood thing a few weeks ago. He's always got a book on him, so she asks him what it is, or how he's doing today. Sometimes she badgers him for gossip about Sirius when he was younger. It turns out that Remus is quite a laugh when you get to know him; he's witty and self-deprecating, the kids all like him and he doesn't bang on about The Last Time like the other first-Order members do. Tonks is starting to see him less as The Werewolf Man and more as just Remus. It feels more of the elephant in the room when they're alone together though- she thinks he thinks she's thinking about it, and then she _is_  thinking about it. Alone together with only the dining table between them, Tonks can't help remember that last week Remus had scabs on his hands and a graze on his cheek. Everybody had determinedly ignored his injuries, but Tonks couldn't resist a second glance at his cut hands, and Remus had caught her looking. In the moment their eyes had met she'd wanted to splutter and apology, but everybody else was talking, and there was more resignation than hurt in Remus' expression. As if he was thinking,  _of course._

Tonks suspects he might be remembering it now so she announces loudly, "Help me out, will you? I'm meant to be arranging this artistically,"

"How?" Remus asks.

"Dunno, that's the problem. How can knives be artistic?"

"Have you thought of putting them in something?"

"In what?"

"There's lots of jars and vases here we could try," he suggests. It doesn't escape Tonks' notice that the says 'we'. That's nice, like they're in this artistic-cutlery-placement mission together.

"Hold on," Remus says, disappearing through the door. Tonks waits for a minute until he returns, with a small jar in each hand and one under his arm. Remus puts them down on the table beside her, takes a handful of cutlery from the tray and plunges it into the vase.

"That's better, isn't it?" he asks, holding up the jar. It's hardly beautiful but it's better than anything Tonks could have come up with and it looks a bit modern-arty. Rustic, her mum might say.

"Yeah, actually," she admits, jamming another handful of knives and forks into the second vase, and rattling it to fit them in. "Sirius didn't look too happy about Ron and Hermione getting prefect," she observes aloud.

"I think he's concerned about Harry,"

"That's all anybody does round here isn't it, be concerned about Harry," Tonks remarks.

It comes out too bitter because Remus asks, "Don't you like him?" and sounds mildly insulted.

"No, I didn't mean  _that_ ," Tonks replies hurriedly, "Of course I like him". And it's true: Harry's in a bit of an awkward-teenage-boy phase, but he's fun, he's got a dry sense of humour and he can take a joke. "I'm just saying," she continues, "Maybe having everybody worried about him isn't doing him any favours,"

Remus leans his back against the table and sighs. "Perhaps not. I understand why Dumbledore would make Ron prefect instead of Harry, but I can see the argument that the other two having something Harry doesn't might make him unsure of himself, which isn't what he needs at the moment. The three of them are very close," he adds. Remus is good at reading people like this, she's noticed. Intuitive. Caring.

"Yeah, maybe," Tonks shrugs, "But I'm sure he'll be fine. Might be good for him to have some  _normal_  teenage stuff to worry about for once. Anyway, where's the fun in being a prefect?"

"You can use the nice bathrooms," Remus suggests, adjusting one of the forks in the vase, "And you can keep the things you confiscate,"

"You were one, then?"

"Yes. I had about fifteen Flying Frisbees by the end of fifth year,"

"Speaking of confiscating, don't let Mundungus know that this is Sirius' best silver," Tonks recommends. As the last word leaves her mouth, a terrible thought rams into her brain.

"Silver! I- you-  _put it down now!"_

"What?" asks Remus.

Tonks leans over to bat his hand away from the cutlery in the vase. "I'm sorry, I totally didn't realise-"

She rushes round the table to examine his hand, unfolding his fingers with hers and gabbling, "I've got Dittany in my robe pocket if you need-"

"Tonks," Remus interrupts, "What are you talking about?"

"It's  _silver._ You can't touch it, can you? I'm  _so_  sorry,"

Remus pulls his hand out of her grasp, smiles gently, picks up the fork again and runs the side of it over his palms and wrists. He touches it to his face then mimes stabbing himself in the heart.

"It's fine. See? Perfectly fine," he assures her.

Tonks tries not to look overly relieved. Was that panic stupid? "Oh. Well," she mutters, "Sorry for scaring you,"

"That's alright. Thank you for your concern". She thinks for a moment that Remus might be being sarcastic, but he's still looking at her with that gentle smile so she isn't sure. Sometimes he's very difficult to work out.

"That's an old wives' tale, then?" she clarifies.

"Yes. There's plenty of rumours about werewolves," Remus says, picking up the cutlery jar Tonks knocked over when she ran around the table, "Very few of them are true, you know".

* * *

**November**

"Thanks Dawlish. Fantastic work, ten points to Gryffindor for that," Tonks huffs, crawling out of the ditch behind the older Auror.

"Don't you two start," Glossop snaps at them, "We're in enough shit,  _literally,_  as it is, without you two bickering,"

Glossop shoves her hands in her pockets and watches as Tonks hauls herself back onto the bank. Dawlish attempts to wipe cowpat off his sleeve with the bottom of his robe and then, grimacing, decides against it. Tonks folds her arms tightly and doesn't look at him.

"We'd best head back," Glossop announces.

"Proudfoot is going to  _kill_  us," says Tonks through gritted teeth.

"She's already cross with me about that Potion catastrophe with Emnisovic last week," sighs Dawlish.

"You know, you really don't help yourself," Tonks tells him.

"Well, not all of us are sucking off Mad-Eye Moody, so  _we_  have to fix our own messes," Dawlish spits.

She grabs him by his collar. "What did you just say?"

Glossop rolls her eyes. "Dawlish, how old are you, twelve? And Tonks, let go of him,"

With a glare, Tonks releases her grip on Dawlish's collar. He's always been an idiot but he's driving her nuts at the moment. He's always sniggering about what a crackpot Dumbledore is and how Harry Potter is deranged.  _As if Dawlish knows anything about it,_  Tonks thinks irritably.

The three of them Apparate back to the Ministry and trudge upstairs to the Auror office. Tonks kneels down to ruffle the ears of the porcupine statue outside. After a few seconds he wriggles into life, reaches round to shove his paw into his spines, and withdraws the key. After the first door there's another, guarded by a portrait who'll only open the door if given an accurate floor-plan of the Auror office. Glossop sketches one hurriedly, and after a moment's deliberation the portrait lets them through. The final door requires a secret knock, which Dawlish bangs out hastily on the wood.

"This is going to be embarrassing," he sighs unnecessarily as the door swings open.

He's right- everyone in the room turns to look at the three Aurors in the doorway, muddied and damp and smelling strongly of animal excrement.

"What happened to  _you?"_  giggles Savage, while Emnisovic drawls, "Look what the cat dragged in,"

Tonks glowers at them. "Don't ask,"

Before anybody can say another word, Thetis Proudfoot appears out of her office door. Tonks winces.  _As if this couldn't get any worse._

"What's all this?" Proudfoot asks the room. Her eyes narrow as she catches sigh of Tonks, Dawlish and Glossop.

"I can explain-" Dawlish pipes up, but Proudfoot cuts him off.

"I take it this afternoon's assignment went well," she says coldly.

"We made some progress," Tonks insists. This does nothing to thaw Proudfoot's displeasure.

"I'll give you thirty seconds to clean yourselves up and then I want you in here," she orders, pointing inside her office in a way which makes it clear that this isn't going to be an comfortable conversation. Silently, Tonks, Glossop and Dawlish perform  _tergeo_  spells on themselves, making the mud seep away into nothingness.

"Glossop, catch," says Emnisovic, tossing a small bottle of perfume at them. Glossop spritzes herself, then hands it to Tonks who does the same. It isn't much, but it might improve the smell a bit.

"Would  _you_ like some?" she asks Dawlish sweetly.

"No," he scowls.

"In here," Proudfoot interrupts, pointing through her office door. Tonks tries to catch Glossop's eye but Glossop stares straight ahead, chin thrust up defiantly. She leads the way into the office but before Tonks and Dawlish can follow, Kingsley Shacklebolt appears.

"Apologies, I need to borrow Tonks, please," he announces. Kingsley doesn't have a hasty or urgent setting, but his slightly-more-hurried-than-usual tone makes it clear that this is something important. Everybody turns around to face him.

"Does Mad-Eye need something handling?" Dawlish asks Kingsley innocently. Tonks ignores him.

"It's important," Kingsley adds, though still in the same cool tone.

Proudfoot considers for a moment, then gives Tonks a nod and says "Dismissed,"

Kingsley leads the way out of the office. Tonks knows him well enough not to say anything until they're in the secluded corner where Kingsley's Sirius-hunting maps and notes lay scattered over desks, and pinned to the wall. Kingsley pulls the wheeled blackboard in front of them so it's safe to talk without being observed. The blackboard's got a silencing charm around it to avoid eavesdroppers. It's their usual in-office spot for any Order discussions.

_"Lifesaver._  We were about to get a right bollocking," Tonks grins at him.

Kingsley remains business-like. "We're needed urgently at Grimmauld," he explains.

Tonks had expected that. "What's happened?"

"I don't know. Sturgis, Remus, Hestia and Bill are coming too, and Mundungus if we're lucky,"

"Oh. Right," says Tonks, then adds hastily, "Can I pop home and have a shower then before we go?"

"Sorry, there's not time,"

"I'll be  _five_ minutes," she promises.

"You look fine, most of the mud's gone," Kingsley says, smiling reassuringly. (His reassuring smile, bless him, is more awkward than consoling).

"But I  _reek_ ," Tonks whines...and Remus is going to be there. Remus who, in the last couple of weeks, she's started think of as kind of cute. He's not conventionally or even noticeably handsome, but he's quite pretty if you look closely. She _has_ been looking closely. She likes Remus' curly hair and his gentle smile. She likes the patches on his clothes and the way he folds his shirt cuffs over the sleeves of his jumper. A few days ago Tonks bumped into him on the back porch at Grimmauld and he made her laugh a lot, although now she can't remember what he said that was so funny. She can't quite work him out, which makes him more fascinating. But more pressing  _now_  is the fact that Sirius mentioned a while ago that being a werewolf means Remus has an excellent sense of smell- so no way is Tonks going to turn up stinking of shit. If she thinks too much about the werewolf thing Remus _does_  seem less cute, but the Tonks doesn't think of it much nowadays. Nobody else in the Order mentions it much, and they get a stern look from Sirius if they do. (Remus' odd-couple act with Sirius is cute too. They're very protective of each other).

"Five minutes," Tonks pleads.

Kingsley glances at his silver watch, then back at her. Tonks knows Kingsley well enough to know that morphing her eyes huge and blue and watery won't help her case.  _Come on Kingsley,_ she thinks,  _We're mates. You know Mad-Eye would make me to go this meeting stinking. You don't want to be like that, do you?_  It's going to be mortifying if Remus sees her like this. This stupid accident would never happen to him. He's far too cool and controlled. He's also too controlled and cool for daft crushes like this, and he's older, and Tonks suspects he's beating for the other team anyway, and even if he isn't he's wouldn't be interested in her. So she knows it's all silly, but she still doesn't want to make an idiot on herself in front of him.

"Alright. I'll tell them we're held up here," Kingsley relents.

Tonks beams. "You're a legend, Kingsley. I owe you one,"

Maybe she'll regret in a few weeks, when this thing for Remus has burnt out and she's left covering Kingsley's Sirius-hunting work on a boring Friday evening. But that's not important at the moment. What's important is that she has to get home and get cleaned up, and she's seeing Remus.

"So they tell me. I'll see you in the Atrium in five minutes, no later," Kingsley adds.

Tonks gives him a thumbs-up him, and Apparates straight into her shower.

* * *

**January**

"I'm worried about him," Molly announces.

"He'll come round," Remus answers patiently, "He's missing Harry,"

"Exactly. You know how he likes to show off to him, Remus- aren't you concerned he's going to do something rash?"

Remus half-smiles. "I'm always concerned he's going to do something rash,"

"And the drinking," Molly sighs, "He's getting as bad as Mundungus,"

"It's not  _that_ much," Tonks protests, "It's not like he's a bottle down before breakfast". Sirius likes a drink but everyone's blowing it way out of proportion. Poor bastard's hardly got anything else to do, has he? He's upstairs right now, brooding, while Tonks, Molly, Remus and Emmeline chat around the kitchen table. Tonks is trying not too look at Remus too often, but her eyes aren't co-operating and insist on repeatedly flicking towards him.

"I agree with Tonks. Sirius' drinking habits aren't our most pressing concern at the moment," Remus corroborates.

"Realistically I don't think there's much we can do. We all know the reasons why he has to stay here. It's not ideal for anybody, but that's the situation so we'll all have to live with it, Sirius included," Emmeline continues briskly.

"Kingsley's telling the Ministry there's been a sighting in Nicaragua," Tonks adds. Mad-Eye says she gets too much satisfaction out of seeing Kingsley lie to the Ministry, but come on, one in the eye for Fudge is always something to smile about.

Molly glances at the clock. "When are you two leaving?"

"Ten past," Remus tells her. The Order are observing the Avery family's house nightly. Tonight it's Remus and Emmeline on duty. Tonks, whose guarding the Prophecy this evening, can't help but be jealous that Emmeline's getting to spend all evening with Remus, while she's stuck creeping around the Department of Mysteries. Last week Tonks got put on the Avery house watch with Remus and they had a long, fascinating talk, like they always do together, especially in their increasingly frequent chats on Grimmauld Place back porch. She had got close, that night at the Averys, to finally  _telling_  him. To saying,  _"I'm crazy about you and you're the most brilliant person I know and would you mind awfully if I said I wanted to kiss you"_. She'd thought at first that her infatuation towards him would fade away, but it didn't. It got stronger and more powerful- Merlin, it happened so _fast_ \- and it isn't a crush anymore because talking to him, looking at him, even thinking about him feels so _good._  She thinks she might be falling in love.

"What about you, Tonks?" Emmeline asks.

Auror training ensures that Tonks doesn't jump at the sudden distraction. "Half eight, so not for ages," she replies.

"I don't know how you do it, dear, a ten-hour day and night duty in the evening," Molly says.

Tonks shrugs. "Coffee,"

Everybody chuckles and she feels a prickle of pride that she's managed to make Remus laugh, like the one she felt a moment ago when he said he agreed with her about Sirius' boozing.

"Anyway, when we're done we go home to _bed_ , not to seven kids. You're definitely the hardest worker in the Order," adds Emmeline.

"Well, it's not much now they're all at school," Molly says modestly.

"I've seen first-hand how many owls you get about the twins- it's full-time job just dealing with that," jokes Remus (Tonks reckons he's joking).

"You forget I was at school with your lot, Remus. James and Sirius probably had an owl sent home every day!" laughs Emmeline. (She's older than Sirius and Remus but younger than Tonks' parents. Even if Tonks hadn't known that she'd been Head Girl she'd have been able to tell from her air of authority and efficiency).

Mentioning Sirius, though, sets Molly back to her fretting. "Don't you think that he hasn't quite grown out of that?" she asks, "He thinks he's re-living his teenage years through Harry?"

Remus stops grinning. "He's bored. With the greatest respect, Molly, I don't think he needs a psychiatric assessment".

Because Remus is usually very measured, when he does come out with something like that people listen. Tonks can't help but note that it's dead attractive. It works, too because Molly turns pink, drops her analysis of Sirius' mental state and blusters on: "Well, what he  _does_  need is a shave. He's starting to look bedraggled,"

"And it covers up his gorgeous Black cheekbones," adds Emmeline, and when Molly gives her a funny look she shrugs, "You can't deny he's beautiful,"

He is; he always has been. Azkaban's made him gaunt and pale but there's no denying that Sirius is still extraordinarily goodlooking. And he's not over the hill either- he's the same age as Remus, which Tonks is constantly trying to convince herself isn't  _that_ old. If things were different, Sirius could easily be out dating and enjoying himself putting those cheekbones to good use. Tonks is sure she can remember being a little kid and hearing Mum reprimanding Sirius for sleeping around, and Sirius scoffing that he was only having fun and not everyone married their Hogwarts sweetheart at nineteen. Tonks can picture young, breezy Sirius now, kicking his feet up on their kitchen table and rolling his eyes at her mother. He'd had a beard back then, she remembers.

"He used to wear his beard like that before he went to prison," Tonks murmurs.

"Yes, he did," chimes in Remus unexpectedly. He meets her eye with that small, melancholy smile, the smile that always makes her heart lurch. Sirius- and his imprisonment- connects her and Remus in a strange and miserable way. But Remus makes her feel less confused and angry about the whole thing. It's good to have someone to talk to about it who isn't her mother (Mum's never been easy to talk to about Sirius). Tonks hopes that she helps Remus in the same way, because he had  _nobody_ to talk to the whole time Sirius was in Azkaban. Sometimes she's sure that she _is_  helping him and that he's feeling this connection too, and perhaps he's feeling other things as well...A couple of times she's caught Remus looking at her longer than people usually look at one another, and then there's those chats on the back porch when it's cold outside and he could be doing anything else but he's outside talking to  _her…._

Molly and Emmeline are here at the kitchen table but they don't seem important. Tonks is caught in his gentle smile. His eyes are very, very kind. Sirius may cheekbones and eyelashes and a penchant for tight trousers, but he doesn't have those eyes. He doesn't have those adorable sticking-out ears or that throaty voice. He doesn't have Remus' patience, gentleness and grace.

"Did you, back then? Have a beard I mean," Tonks mumbles.  _Were you as handsome then as you are now? Tell me about you. I want to more. I want to know everything._

Remus double-takes. "No".

Oh. Right. Tonks hadn't really cared about the answer but she's surprised at the bluntness of it.  _No._ There's two options now, she supposes- change topic, or plough on. And she's never really been one to doge the subject.

"I think you'd look nice with one," she tells him, meeting his eye. She can feel herself getting hot, and wonders how people who can't change their faces possibly survive without being able to hide blushes.

When Remus replies, his voice is steady. "I don't especially like the feel of hair on my face,"

The admission hangs in the air for a moment. Remus' eyes flick away from her, and before Tonks can come up with a mortified reply, Molly speaks:

"You're right Remus, it's scruffy. Charlie's grown one now and Bill probably will too now he's back from Egypt. I don't see what the fuss is all about. It's five past six, you two had better get going," she adds.

"Good idea. Come on, Remus," Emmeline agrees, pushing her chair back getting to her feet. She unhooks her cloak from the back of the kitchen door and swings it around her shoulders.

Remus stands up, pulls on his battered beige overcoat and pockets the bundle of sandwiches Molly left on the table for them.

"Thanks for these," he adds.

"Not a problem, dear,"

Unexpectedly, he turns to Tonks. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Err. No, sorry. Friday, though," she mutters, taken aback by the question and trying not to trip over her words under his gaze. She isn't sure if she's imagining the slight disappointment on his face.

"Alright," he murmurs, "I'll see you then. I hope it's alright tonight,"

"Yeah. Cool,"

"See you later, Tonks," adds Emmeline, "Bye Molly- thanks again for the sandwiches,"

The two of them head out of the kitchen door. Tonks' unhelpful eyes again insist on lingering on Remus as he leaves, and for a few moments longer even once he and Emmeline have disappeared from sight.

Molly breaks the silence. "Are you in love with him?"

Tonks glances at her sharply and tries to resist rolling her eyes. Of course Molly knows. Mrs Weasley watches everybody and, bless her, she likes to be in on everybody's business. And Tonks' attraction to Remus is probably getting more obvious by the day.

"I'm not sure," she replies.

Molly smiles broadly. "What does it feel like?"

"I dunno," Tonks lies. Molly's great, but she'll get dead soppy if Tonks tells her how good being near Remus is and how powerless and protective he makes her feel. And no way can she talk to Molly about the things she thinks about him at night, picturing those eyes.

"He's a very nice man," Molly declares, glowing, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Don't know that either. Sirius is convinced he likes me back, and sometimes I reckon that he's right. But then I think I'm kidding myself. We've got a good working relationship so I can't really risk that,"

"I'd believe you if you hadn't just gazed and him and told him he'd look nice with a beard,"

Tonks feels herself blush. "Yeah and I totally put my foot in it didn't it? I'm always doing that with him, I've never had this sort of...it's never been this complicated with other blokes". It's never been this complicated or unexpected or meaningful with anybody else. She's never felt this happy thinking about anybody else. Is that how you know you're in love?

"For once I agree with Sirius," says Molly.

"Blimey,"

"I think Remus does have feelings for you, but if I know him I know that he won't want to presume anything. I imagine he's shy when it comes to that, so you're going to have to tell him straight,"

"Hmm. Yeah," Tonks nods. She'd stopped listening at " _He does have feelings for you"._ Really? Could he?  _Does_  he? Molly's a soppy old romantic, but it's more believable coming from her than from Sirius.

"I'll keep quiet about it to everybody else while you're still working it out," Molly whispers knowingly. She's still beaming.

"Cheers," says Tonks and laughs when Molly, getting up to put the kettle on, glances round to give her a very un-Molly Weasley-ish wink.

* * *

**March**

The bad news is that there isn't enough evidence to hold the suspect overnight, which means releasing him on bail this evening so more work to do when he's brought in for questioning next week. The good news is that it means there's no need to stay until five o'clock, so she can see Remus sooner.

It's been ten days now. Ten days since he first kissed her and she told him how much she likes him (she'd played it safe with 'like'), and they'd kissed and talked and laughed, cuddled up on her sofa until late into the night. He's been over twice since for more of the same. It's undefined and strange, it feels innocent and sometimes slightly awkward, and absolutely fantastic. Tonks keeps grinning to herself, so much that yesterday Dawlish asked if she'd drank Gigglewater. Tonight she's going to Remus' place for the first time.

"Don't get your hopes up," he'd told her with a sheepish smirk, but Tonks is excited to be in his house, his world. Besides, her flat's hardly the Ritz. Shutting her desk drawer and hurling her cloak on (it's a few days after the clock-change but the weather's still chilly), she waves goodbye to the rest of the Aurors, then hurries out of the office and down into the atrium. Finishing early means that there's no Floo queue, so she grabs a handful of powder, tosses it into the fire and steps in.

"Lawton Cottage, Derby,"

There's the familiar spin and soot, and then Tonks feels herself land in a new fireplace. It must be narrow because her elbows are bumping the sides.

"Wotcher. Remus?" she calls, peering out into the room. It's a small lounge with a sofa against one wall, a bookshelf by the window and a coffee table in between, all on top of the ugliest rug Tonks has ever set eyes on.

"Remus?"

A door squeaks open and he walks in. "Hello. Sorry, I didn't realise you'd be here so soon,"

He's wearing dark trousers and his green and white checked shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's also not wearing shoes, which shouldn't be as odd as it is. Tonks doesn't reckon she's seen him in his socks before. He holds out a hand to step her out of the fireplace. Tonks ignores it and climbs out on her own.

"Had to release a suspect at twenty to five, so I got to leave after that," she explains, leaning up to peck Remus' cheek. He puts an arm around her shoulder to hold her there, and kisses her softly on the mouth.

"Hello," he says again, grinning.

She's smiling back like a besotted moron. "Hi,"

Remus gives her a squeeze, then lets her go and says, "Sorry it's a mess, I was just going to tidy up,"

There's a couple of mugs strewn about and a book left open on the coffee table, but it's hardly what Tonks would call a mess. She shrugs. "I've seen worse,"

Remus flicks his wand at the mugs and they bolt upright, dregs of tea disappearing. The rug, Tonks notices, is on top of floorboards not a carpet. There's a split in the coffee table wood.

"Well, make yourself at home," Remus says, in a rather forced voice, "D'you want anything to eat? Drink?"

"I'm alright, thanks,"

He picks up the book and slides it back into the bookshelf. The top four shelves are full of books, but the bottom, Tonks observes, contains LPs.

"Let's see your records," she says, kneeling to look and pulling a few out from the shelf. Celestina Warbeck,  _Sheer Heart Attack,_ Mahler, Elgar,  _Letitia Zabini Sings The Blues,_  ELO, Shostakovich Waltzes,  _Ruddigore..._

"Go on, then," says Remus, sounding wearily amused, "Mock,"

"I wasn't going to mock!"

He looks at her sceptically. She finds herself melting slightly under his gaze.

"Some of this is alright, you know.  _Sheer Heart Attack_ is cool," Tonks insists, glancing away.

Remus kneels down beside her to look at the record. "I think this might be Sirius', actually. Their release-date was always near his birthday, so I'd write to my mother to buy the record and send it to us so we could give it to him as a present. Although it looks like I borrowed this one from him and forgot to give it back,"

He smiles the sad smile that makes her stomach flip, and slides the record back on the shelf.

"Shostakovitch Waltzes," he reads, looking at the next LP Tonks pulled out, "This is one of my favourites. Do you dance?"

"Violently, at great risk to those around me,"

"Will you, then?"

It takes Tonks a second to realise that he's asking her to dance, and another to realise that he's asking her seriously. "Err, yeah. Alright,"

Remus reaches under the bookshelf and drags out a dusty record player. He takes the record out of its case, puts it onto the turntable and taps his wand to turn it on. The record crackles into life, playing out a bouncy, chirpy melody. Remus stands up, and this time Tonks does take his hand he holds out to her. He pulls her to her feet and into his arms in a loose ballroom hold, and sways her gently to the beat of the music.

"I'll probably step on your toes," she warns him.

"My toes have been through a lot," Remus shrugs, "Anyway, you're not wearing your construction boots today,"

She rolls her eyes. Bantering with him is always fun. "They're not construction boots,"

"Oh, they're  _de_ struction boots," he says with exaggerated realisation. Tonks laughs and lets him waltz her across the room. He's pretty good at this, actually, and he seems less skittish now than he was last week. Perhaps she should come over more often.

"Who taught you to dance?" she asks.

"Nobody," Remus shrugs, "It's not difficult if you can count to three,"

"Ah, that's where I'm going wrong. Always get stuck after one and a half,"

"I knew there was a reason you failed Arithmancy,"

She giggles again and burrows her face into his itchy shirt, enjoying the feel and smell of him. He slows down, wraps both his arms around her properly and drops a kiss to the top of her head.

After a pause, Tonks murmurs, "This is really nice, Remus,"

"Mmm,"

"D'you know what, though?"

"What?"

She peels her face away from his shirt. "How come all this screechy violin stuff is fine, and you borrowed Sirius' Queen album, but all the music _I_  like is too high and loud for your sensitive wolf-ears?"

She reaches up and flicks the edge of his ear.

He chuckles. "Many  _very_ complicated reasons. It'd take too long to explain,"

"I've got all evening," Tonks points out. Bantering is fun. Flirting is better.

"It'll take longer than that. I'll have to write you an essay,"

"An essay entitled  _I Pretend I Don't Like Any Music Made After 1985 Although Really I Just Can't Be Bothered To Listen To It,"_

_"_ No, entitled  _Why Can't They All Stop Screaming?"_

"If you bothered to listen to any music I like maybe you'd realise it isn't all screaming,"

He kisses the top of her head again. "I don't think I'll take the risk".

* * *

**April**

Since Sirius "gave" them his dad's old study, Tonks has developed a habit of slipping notes into Remus' pockets asking him to meet her up there. The sneaking around just about satisfies Remus' insistence on discretion. Tonks, meanwhile, has always thought that her own parents' teenage relationship, creeping out of their dormitories to meet each other at night, was dead dramatic. Kissing Remus up against the sideboard in Orion Black's dusty old office doesn't quite have the glamour of Mum and Dad's moonlight meetings on the Astronomy Tower, but she'll take it. Right now they're crammed beside each other on the office armchair while Remus dollops slow, wet kisses down her jaw. He's more confident about this in Grimmauld than at home, and as the weeks go on he's getting less tentative. His shyness was cute at first; he was like a nervous teenager. The age thing hadn't seemed so weird when Remus looked so boyishly pleased and bamboozled every time they kissed. And Tonks would be lying if she claims that it isn't a turn-on to know that Remus hasn't let himself become involved with anybody for years, but that he wants her too much to resist. Moreover, she likes that, because it's been a while for him, she gets to help him find out how he likes to be kissed and touched and what feels good. She likes to make him feel good. And she likes that  _he_ needs prompting and showing how to touch her in return.

"You can bite me if you want," she murmurs, tilting her head to give him a better angle on her neck.  _Let me tell you what I want. Let me show you what women like- although there's never going to be another woman, not if I have anything to say about it._ It's good to know that this is one thing she's got over on him, because in so many ways Tonks feels powerless when it comes to all this. These feelings so intense they make her light-headed and tongue-tied and unable to concentrate when he's near. It's disorientating in the most addictive way. Remus being Remus, he probably doesn't know the effect he has on her. Thank Merlin she has the physical thing over on him, so she doesn't feel completely on the back foot.

Remus's mouth stops momentarily against her skin.

"No, thank you," he murmurs, as if she's offered him an extra helping of gravy that he doesn't quite fancy.  _You_ are _odd sometimes, Remus,_  Tonks thinks fondly.

"Can you blow, then?" she suggests, "Really lightly where your mouth just was,"

Her neck's damp from his tongue, and when he blows across her skin it tingles deliciously. Tonks sighs- slightly more theatrically then necessary because he needs encouragement like that. It works, because Remus blows down the other side of her neck, and then his hands go to either side of her face and he presses their mouths together. His kiss is tender and languid. Tonks is smiling, and she likes knowing he can feel it. He always makes her smile.

It's only the next day, reviling the scene pleasantly in her mind while sitting through a boring Auror Assessment, that Tonks realises with a jolt why he didn't want to bite her.

* * *

**May**

This is where they started: The back porch of Grimmauld Place, looking out at the gnarled garden while scuffing their feet in the leaves. That was back in Autumn; its nearly Summer now. Remus looks beautiful, silhouetted in the dusk with his legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed.

"Wotcher," she says.

His eyes flicker open and he smiles melancholically up at her (Tonks' stomach flips). "Hello".

"Thought you seemed a bit down. I brought you this," Tonks announces slightly awkwardly, holding out a mug of hot chocolate and a croissant. "Not sure how long that's been in the cupboard, so it might be a bit stale," she adds. The apology is about croissant is a coded apology for disturbing him. Sometimes he likes to be left with his thoughts.

"Thank you," Remus says, taking the mug and the croissant. When Tonks doesn't move he adds, "You can stay if you like,"

She tries not to beam at the invitation, thinking that of course she'd like. She'd like to be with him all the time. Tonks sits down beside him and follows his gaze into the sky.

"There's Andromeda," Remus points out, indicating the curved pattern of stars in the darkening sky. He takes a big bite of the pastry.

"Oh yeah. Mum always tried to show me where it was when I was a kid. You know what the Blacks are like with Astronomy,

"Sirius always hated it,"

_Yeah,_ Tonks thinks,  _of course he did._ But instead she asks out loud, "So what are you looking at?"

"What do you think?" he asks passively, eyes flicking up to the quarter-moon glowing silver above them.

"Ah. Right,"

How could she not have known? The moon's always hanging over him. It's quite nice tonight, she thinks. There's silence for a long moment and then Remus says, "This is the worst part, you know. Waking crescent. Nearer to the full than the new, but not near enough to start preparing,"

"Is it really bad, Remus? Even on Wolfsbane?

He looks at her with a strange expression on his face. Tonks isn't sure if he's contemplating the answer or expecting her to add something. She waits.

"Not  _as_ bad," Remus says at last, "But pretty bad".

He wipes the shards of pastry from his mouth, takes a sip of hot chocolate, and looks back up into the sky.

* * *

**June**

Between kisses, she feels him lift her up by the waist and carry her over to the stairs. He slips his arm under her knees, so he's carrying her like a bride. Tonks kicks her shoes off and shortens her legs a bit to help him out, wrapping both arms around his neck. She can smell the dark, fruity scent of red wine on him. Remus is a lovely drunk, all sweet and cuddly and the tiniest bit less hesitant. He falters a bit on the battered stairs and giggles, and Tonks is laughing back louder, and he's telling her to shush.

"Remus, you live in the middle of flipping nowhere. Nobody's going to hear us,"

"There's mice in the skirting-boards. They might hear. They might think we're up to something," he adds in a dramatic whisper, words slurring slightly.

"Hmm," Tonks responds, staring hungrily at his bottom lip, "And what  _are_ we up to?"

Remus grins and carries her up the rest of the staircase. Tonks likes it when he does that- she's used to feeling really blokey in life, at work, with him, so it's nice when he treats her like an actual girl. He's so special, she's so lucky, and that isn't just the alcohol talking. She hears Remus kick open his bedroom door, and then he lays her on his bed (sometimes Tonks wishes he'd be rougher and toss her down, but he's always very gentle), toes off his shoes and climbs on top of her. He's all angles and bony joints, and his weight feels comfortable and sexy. Remus winks and lowers his mouth to hers, and Tonks keeps her eyes open to watch him kiss her, to gaze at his eyelashes and his jaw and the way his cheek's moving. He's dead handsome. Absolute knock-out, if only he realised it.

"You're gorgeous," she murmurs when his mouth hovers away, "You're so fucking sexy,"

His hips jerk against her. "Mind your language,"

Drunk Remus gets a bit cocky like that; he has a swagger to him that he never has sober. God, it's attractive.

Tonks grins up at him. "Fuck off,"

He tips his head back as he laughs, then flops onto his side next to her and pulls her close, groping for the zip on the back of her dress.

"Sorry, it's fiddly," Tonks mumbles.

"But you want me to?" he clarifies, making sure to look at her directly as he asks.

"Course. Do you?"

"Yes," he affirms. He scrabbles uselessly between her shoulder-blades for a few moments, then gives up and nuzzles his nose against her neck.

"Let's do it standing up," Tonks suggests.

"Mmm?"

She pushes Remus off and slides off the bed. Landing on the floor, she grows her legs back so she's at normal height again, grabs Remus' hand and drags him across to his desk.

"Over the desk, yeah?". She puts his hands on her hips from behind and leans back against him, "I want you so much right now,"

Sex with Remus so far has been sensual and slow. He's tender and attentive and there's lots of communication, although more of the _Is this alright? Are you sure_ variety than the  _I'm so horny, I can't wait to be inside you_  variety. He needs lots of stroking and kissing on the face, ears, neck, shoulders, arms, fingers, before anything goes below-waist. Right now she doesn't have time for any of that; he feels amazing pressed behind her, and it'll be fast and rough and dirty and-

"I can't,"

Tonks glances round at him. "Come again?"

"I can't do it unless you're facing me". He's not slurring now. He looks uncomfortable and he sounds very sure. He moves his hands from her hips to her shoulders.

"Why? In case I change my face?" Tonks asks, although Remus isn't as annoying about the whole Metamorphmagus thing than other guys she's been with.

"Umm, no, not that," he clarifies, "I don't like it if I'm not looking at you,"

"Oh," Tonks hears the alcohol ask, "Why?"

"It's a bit impersonal, isn't it? And...I want to know if you change your mind,"

She has to laugh at that. "You can see my face  _now_ , can't you? And do you  _honestly_ ," Tonks says pushing back harder against his chest and hips, "Think that I'm going to change my mind?"

She can't help the sigh-growl that escapes her throat.  _For once Remus, just shut up and fuck me._

"I'm sorry, I can't," he says, propping her up on her own weight so he can step away from her. His tone is detached and frustrated, as if she's inconveniencing him.

"Why are you being weird about this?" Tonks asks, stung.

"I just don't want to, what's wrong with that?". He's on the defensive now; more waspish than he would be sober.

"Fine, I get it, you don't like doggy-"

She stops talking abruptly as the realisation hits.

Doggy-style.

Oh.

Oh, right. Of course.

Tonks groans inwardly _._   _You stupid, stupid girl._

"I'm so sorry," she breathes. He's looking at the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Remus. I understand,"

Remus can't have sex doggy-style because he can't feel like a wolf, an animal, when he's with her. He lives in terror of that. And of course has to be facing her, because everybody knows that when it comes to women it isn't just bites that Greyback uses as a threat. Tonks winces and tries not to cry. Nearly a year since she cut her hand in the Grimmauld kitchen and she's still putting her foot in her mouth and upsetting him about this. Of course Remus is weird about some things, he's a _werewolf_  for goodness sake, and she should know by now that that doesn't mean one night a month. It means every day, every second. How can she love him this much but not have learnt that by now?

Tonks looks at him, standing beside the wardrobe and staring at the ceiling. His clothes and hair are rumpled but all the sexiness of ten seconds ago has vanished. Tonks mumbles his name and reaches out her hand. Remus half-glances at her, touches his fingers to hers, and looks at the ceiling again.

"Forget it. We'll do whatever you like," she murmurs. Anything he wants, anything to make him happy.

After a long pause, Remus mutters, "Maybe we should go to sleep now,"

The wariness in his voice stings. _You don't have to be wary with me,_ Tonks thinks, _I love you_ so  _much._  But maybe that's the problem? She loves him too much to care about the werewolf thing, but  _he_  cares about it. Perhaps she loves him with too much intensity. Remus isn't an intense person. Maybe he finds her too much to deal with. Perhaps she is too young for him, after all.

"Yeah," Tonks mutters, spitting the word out hastily so it doesn't choke on tears. She isn't going to cry, she is  _not_  going to cry.

Remus moves stiffly to his wardrobe, takes out a set of his pyjamas, and hands Tonks the pair that she's started keeping here. He turns away from her while he changes, and it stings that a minute ago she was about be the one undoing Remus' buttons and his belt, and now he's doing it himself, quickly and silently and not looking at her. But what hurts more is the glimpse of the bite mark on his shoulder- the reason all this has happened and has ruined so many things for him.

Tonks battles with the zip on her dress for a few endless, embarrassing seconds- as if this moment wasn't humiliating enough- but it won't budge. With a huff, she gives up and climbs into bed still in her dress. Remus pulls the lumpy duvet over them both, and taps his wand on the beside light to turn it off. They lie beside each other in the darkness, not touching. Silence.

"I'm sorry," Tonks says again.

His voice is tired, and sad, and resigned. "I know".

In the morning her hangover kills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Have a fun weekend, and please leave a comment.


	42. Autumn Leaves

_November 2007_

The toddlers are getting rowdy, so Hermione sets down her plate and wanders into the kitchen, leaving the two Weasleys in charge of the children. It's Guy Fawkes Night, one of the Muggle traditions which Harry and Hermione have managed to introduce to their families. They- Hermione, Ron, Rose, Ginny, Harry, James, Albus and Teddy, are at Harry and Ginny's house for a bonfire. The kids helped to build it earlier, although that mostly descended into stick-fights and jumping in leaves. George has given them a box of Wildfire Whizzbangs and Harry's up in the attic hunting for sparklers.

Hermione leans on the kitchen counter and looks out into the garden. It's bigger than the one her own house. Hermione wanted to stay in London, while Harry and Ginny prefer the countryside. Rose, Hermione thinks irritably, likes the countryside too. 

There's a noise from behind her and Hermione turns, wand raised- it never leaves you- but it's only Ron. He's looking sheepish and holding out Hemione’s half-full plate.

"You left your pizza," he explains, "I didn't know if you wanted to finish it,"

"You have it," Hermione says disinterestedly. Ron looks momentarily puzzled, then sets the plate down on the counter.

"Can I stay?" he asks tentatively. Hermione glances at him and nods, and he moves to lean beside her, though far enough away so that they don't touch. They've been fighting a lot lately. Not their usual friendly bickering but proper arguments. There's so much to deal with for a two-year-old: bottles, nappies, toys, bibs, plasters. Rose is in a throwing phase so her food usually ends up on the floor. Hermione snaps at her, and Ron tells her not to talk to their daughter like that.

"Well sorry we can't all be Molly Weasley, Ron. Sorry  _I_ actually find being a mother really hard," she'd spat at him the other day.

"Yeah, must be tough looking after her all day- oh no, you're at work so it's  _me_ who feeds her and changes her and takes her to the park," he snarled.

"Wow, Order of Merlin for you,"

"I'm just saying, it's-"

"For once, would it kill you to support me?"

"Merlin's sake, not this  _again._ What's staying home to look after our daughter if it isn't supporting you and your career?" Ron had huffed.

"I'm _good_ at my career! I know what I'm doing at the Ministry, but I don't have a clue how to be a parent. It's supposed to get easier once they get older but it's getting more exhausting," she groaned. Ron opened his mouth and Hermione snapped, "And don't tell me that I'm just jealous because you're better at this than I am,"

"I wasn't going to say anything like that". He sounded hurt and Hermione winced at herself. Next-door in the living room, they'd heard Rose start to cry.

"I’ll get her," Ron muttered.

"No, I'll-"

"Hermione. I'll get her,"

They fight over if Rose is ill, if she's growing out of her shoes, if they should let her get away with not wearing her coat outside. It was been her birthday last month and they'd argued about what present to get her. On her birthday itself, once they were home from her party at the Burrow and Rose was in bed, Ron had suggested that now she was two they might start considering having another baby. Naturally, that had turned into an argument. Of course Ron wanted more children, Hermione had thought bitterly, he was a Weasley; siblings were like walls or clouds to him, a natural fixture in life. Hermione was, like Rose, an only girl, and there was something oddly comforting about that. In the moments when she looked at her daughter and thought that she would never understand her, at least they had this one shared experience. And parenting was so exhuasting and repetative, and had made them so fractious with each other, that now was a terrible time to discuss having more children. Hermione told Ron that she refused to try for another baby until Rose was older. Ron had backpedalled and promised, "Okay, I get it, your choice," but he'd looked worried, like reaching thirty with only one child to show for it was a failure. It doesn’t help that Harry and Ginny are already expecting baby number three.

Hemione thinks of that now, watching through the kitchen door as Rose plays with her cousins. At three and a half, James is a chunky, jolly boy, and he's jumping on the sofa beside Rose (Hermione's noticed, with a glint of pride which seems too nasty to say out loud, that Rose’s vocabulary is nearly as good as James' already). Albus, who don't be two until June, tries to climb up to join them but he can't reach. He's smaller and slighter than James; more stroppy and sensitive. Before Al can get cross about being left out, Teddy, whose been half-playing with the toddlers and half-talking to Ginny, scoops him up and plonks him onto his knee. Teddy loves Ginny, always has. He loves babies too, and he always wants to touch Ginny's stomach to feel her baby kick. Hermione remembers him doing the same with her when she was pregnant with Rose. Teddy whispers something to Albus and lifts the baby onto his feet so he's standing on Teddy's bony kneecaps.

"He'd have been a good big brother," says Ron. Hermione jumps- she'd forgotten he was there.

Her eyes flick sideways to where Ron’s looking through the doorway too. Hermione suspects he's getting at the having-more-children conversation again, so she mumbles, "Yes,"

"It's not fair they're not here, is it?" Ron asks quietly.

"No," Hermione agrees, "It's not fair we have this and they didn't”. She considers that a lot. The distance of time illuminates the randomness and unfairness of everything that happened.

"What d'you think they'd be doing if they were here?" Ron asks.

"Tonks would probably still be an Auror,” says Hermione, “She could have been your boss,"

He’d only stayed at the Ministry for a couple of years. Harry, they all knew, didn’t know how to do anything but fight, but Ron had his family. He had George. After two years, Ron had packed in the Auror department and gone to help his brother run the joke shop. He’d been good at that and had enjoyed it more than being an Auror. When Rose was a baby he’d strapped her to his chest when at the shop, leaving everybody amused and Hermione impressed. Now Rose is more mobile and destructive, Ron’s working from home, managing orders and stock from the kitchen. Sometimes he says he misses the shop floor, but for the most part he’s happy and settled and enjoys being a work-from-home dad.

"Lupin would have been chuffed about everything you've done for werewolf rights," Ron ejaculates. Hermione looks at him sharply.

"He would," Ron repeats.

"That's why I do it," she tells him.

"I know,"

"I think about him all the time," Hermione says softly, "How lonely he must have been for so long,"

"Yeah. And then he meets this Auror with pink hair and they get married and have a kid and then they aren't even here to enjoy it". He sounds more irritated than angry, using the sulky tone he often spoke in when they were teenagers. In the living room, Teddy sets Albus back on the floor and turns to Ginny again. He can be shy sometimes, but get him going and he asks loads of questions and he likes telling stories, especially if it’s Ginny listening or answering his questions. Hermione looks forward to when Rose is that age, but nine and a half is a long way from two.

“D'you reckon they would have been happy? They wouldn't have split up or something," says Ron.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, it was a shotwand wedding and you know what Mum says about that. He was about twenty years older, he was a professor. She was always making her nose look like a pig's,"

"Perhaps that's what they liked about each other," Hermione suggests.

"Yeah, maybe. Dunno, though,"

"Ron, what's your point?"

"That it's sad that they never going to be anything more than married for a year with a tiny baby. Would they have liked being parents? Would they have had more kids? Would they have gone through something like we are now?"

It's reassuring to hear him word it like that; just something they’re going through, just a phase. Hermione throws him a small smile. "Maybe. What do you reckon?"

"Don't know. Lupin always seemed calm, didn't he, but he obviously wasn't when it came to her and Teddy. One minute he's ditching her when she's pregnant, next she's had the baby and he's the happiest we ever saw him,"

"It wasn't the next minute, it was months later," Hermione corrects.

"Point still stands. The whole thing was a coller-roaster for him. What are you smirking at?"

"It's called a roller-coaster,"

"Yeah, that," he corroborates unashamedly.

His daft mistakes make her laugh. She's always envied the way Ron talks with such casualness. He's not embarrassed by mistakes or mispronunciations. Ron Weasley exists with an ease that Hermione has never had.

"We can take Rose on one to when she's older. Take them all to the funfair," Ron suggests.

Hermione tries to arrange her face into an expression which suggests that a day at a funfair with a bunch of small children doesn't sound excruciating. Thankfully, she's spared from having to answer by the arrival or Harry, bounding down the stairs clamping a box of sparklers under his arm.

"Found them," he grins, "What are you two doing in here?"

Ron and Hermione glance at each other.

"Never mind," Harry says hastily, walking past them through the kitchen door, "James, guess what Daddy's got for later?"

The three-year-old springs off the sofa and onto the floor to investigate. “What this, Daddy?”

Hary puts the box onto the carpet and opens it up to show James.

"Cool, sparklers," chirps Teddy, "Ron, Hermione, come see!"

Hermione looks at Ron again. He shrugs and half-smiles. _Would they have gone through something like we are now?_ She doesn’t know. But she does know that she and Ron have got through worse, and they'll get through this. Hermione half-smiles back at him, and they together they walk back into the living-room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. After 42 chapters and lots of fab feedback, it's time for me to take a break for a few weeks. In the mean time, please check out my story Magpies. Thank you so much for your support, and I’ll see you soon.


	43. Stuff

She seemed to have left almost everything she'd ever owned in Remus' cottage. Every so often he'd tried to give the stuff he'd found back to her, but he obviously hadn't tried hard enough because now he's found her possessions everywhere. Her hair-bands by the sink. Her jotter on his bookshelf. Her socks under the bed. In one of his drawers he'd found a music magazine, a pyjama top and a pair of underwear that he'd been meaning to hand back to her next time (the thought of her leaving her knickers in his bedroom made him blush, and he knows that she would have sniggered at his embarrassment). Now, they all went in the box along with the hair-bands, jotter and socks. Remus planned to give the box to Kingsley with instruction to pass it on to her. He wouldn't see her himself. A couple of days after he told Tonks he was ending them, Remus had written to Dumbledore telling him he was available for any long-term investigation required. He remembered a conversation a while ago in which Dumbledore mentioned infiltrating Greyback's werewolf pack. Remus had written that he could do that, or try to work with the centaurs, or go abroad if necessary. Anything not to have to see her. Anything not to hurt her more than he already had. As for his own pain- well, it was his fault, he deserved it. Deserved having to fold up Tonks' pyjama t-shirt, with her smell clinging to it, and the memories of the times he'd seen her wear it. She hadn't bought pyjamas over for ages- she said she kept forgetting. The t-shirt was bright blue with  _Down Vith Children_  emblazoned across the chest. Tonks had tried to explain the reference about ten times- Remus kept pretending to forget to wind her up. They'd done a lot of winding each other up. She was fun to be with like that, in a way which even Sirius wasn't. She was silly and unpredictable and often, Remus suspected, barking mad. She had made him feel so alive.

He put the folded t-shirt into the box. He'd investigate the bathroom next, and that wouldn't be as bad as the bedroom because Tonks didn't bother to bring her own soap and shampoo- she had tonnes of the stuff, more types of hair product that Remus had known existed. During the week she could shower in two minutes, but on the weekend she liked to take ages, and sometimes he'd climb in too. She'd wash his hair, running soapy circles on his scalp. He'd loved that. Here, Remus was worried that long showers ran up the water bill, but when he'd mentioned it in her flat Tonks had looked at him like he was insane, then shrugged that it was nothing to worry about. Investigating the bathroom now, Remus only found a tube of eyeliner left by the mirror. He hadn't realised that she'd owned so much make-up. The tube was half-empty and sticky, but Remus put it in the box anyway. He wasn't binning or keeping anything. He didn't want any reminders of her. Getting Dora Tonks out of his head was going to be difficult enough so he didn't need to keep any of her stuff here to taunt him. Even if he wanted to, it didn't deserve it. He'd taken too much from her already.

It took Remus another half-hour to collate all of Tonks' belongings. He double-checked every room and kept finding something new. One of her crime thriller novels was wedged into his bookshelf. A pair of her ridiculous fingerless leather gloves were stuffed in his coat pocket. In a kitchen cupboard was a packet of biscuits Tonks had brought over but they hadn't got round to eating. Remus searched through his pockets and bedside drawer for the notes she wrote him, hastily scrawled on a torn-out square of parchment.  _You look well fit today. See you in the Study in 10 mins?_  and  _Didn't want to wake you up. Owl me if you're free later xxx_  and  _THIS IS THE DULLEST MEETING EVER!_  One exclamation mark was never enough for her. She was exclamation marks and question marks, sarky asides in brackets and suspenseful ellipses. He was a comma. Useful but boring. Easy to overlook. He should have put a full stop to them long before he did. Remus did a final sweep of his bedroom, wrote  _N Tonks c/o Shaklebolt_  on the side of the box, and sealed the lid shut.

* * *

He didn't leave a thing. Not a quill, not a shoe-lace, not a chocolate wrapper. He'd lent her books a few times but, knowing how important his books were to him, Tonks had always made sure to give them back (sometimes she lied about having read them and Remus would give her his Professor glare and ask her a question about it. When she'd get it wrong he'd sigh wearily, make a haughty, unimpressed comment and leave the disappointment hanging in the air for a moment. And then he'd wink). Now, alone in her flat with a suitcase open on the floor, Tonks wished that she'd kept a book. Just one item to prove that he'd been here and that they'd been a them. Without any of Remus' stuff it felt like it could have been a dream of the most wonderful three months and the most wonderful man, until he became dimmed by grief and fear ("Would you being doing this if Sirius hadn't died?" she'd asked through tears when he told her he was ending it. He'd taken her to a Muggle pub, which she now realised was an attempt to avoid her making a scene. Well tough luck because Nymphadora Tonks was not one to go quietly, "Well, would you?"

"I don't know," he murmured, "I hope so. I'm ashamed it's taken this long for me to realise how selfish I've been,"

He looked miserable. Since Sirius died Tonks had wanted to hold and comfort him- they could help each other through the grief. But instead he'd been mumbly and detached, and now she understood why. She wanted to should that it hadn't been selfish- it had been lovely and meaningful and fun, but the tears came harder, and all she could do was cry and kick the table, and everybody in the pub stared). That was the start of July. It was nearly the end of August now, and she was going away to Hogsmeade in a few days. Tonks wasn't sure if that would make her feel better or worse. Perhaps a change if scene might be good, but she doubted it'd stop her feeling so lost and anxious. She wished Remus had left a shirt or a cardigan; something she could remember him wearing, something that smelled like him. She'd loved wearing his clothes. She kept pretending to forget to bring pyjamas to his place because she liked wearing his shirt and boxers to bed. And Merlin, it had been a turn-on to smell his clothes and feel their warmth on her and be where his skin had been, with the real Remus lying beside her. She'd like using his soap too, so she could smell him and smell like him. She liked being like him.

She didn't even have a page of his handwriting (it was messier than she expected. Sirius' was very neat). At this rate Tonks would take having a hairbrush or a sock. But Remus looked after his possessions carefully because he didn't have many. Before he'd gone away to the werewolf camp he'd sent, via Kingsley, a box of all the clothes, books and assorted crap that Tonks had left in his collage. Before, when he'd hand her back a jacket or notebook she'd left there, Tonks would laugh and shrug, but the box made her blush ashamedly. He probably thought she'd was a right slob because she kept losing stuff and leaving her things lying around. Or he reckoned she was spoilt because she never had to be as fastidious as he did; her family could always afford to replace stuff that got lost or broken. She'd been careless at the Ministry battle too, and now she'd lost Sirius and broken Remus. By not protecting his best friend she'd hurt him so badly that she didn't deserve to have a reminder of him. He told her to forget him ("How? How can I forget you? I  _love_  you,") although Tonks wasn't sure if the box proved that Remus wanted to forget about her too. There were a couple of hairbands in the bottom of the box, and she'd need them more now that her hair had turned long and lank.

Tonks chucked a couple of pairs of socks into her trunk. Perhaps going away wouldn't make any difference. There'd be as much stuff in Hogsmeade to remind of her Remus as there was at home- zero. And truthfully, the stuff wasn't what mattered. England or Scotland, Manchester or Hogsmeade- it didn't make any difference, because wherever she was and however much of his stuff she had with her, she'd be loving him, and worrying for him, and missing him.


	44. Ash Wednesday

Remus filed out of church with the rest of the congregation. The weather outside was crisp and bright- Winter, but not impossible to see Spring approaching. Remus was on nodding terms with some of the churchgoers, and he could see Mrs Daniels waving, and the youngest Oleywo boy smiling at him from over the biggest brother’s shoulder. Remus smiled back, waved at Mrs Daniels, then walked through the gate and onto Coley Road. He'd always enjoyed going to church. As a child he’d enjoyed the singing and stories, although his family never stayed in one place long enough to join the choir or Sunday school. He read the children's Bible at home instead. It was comforting to know that God was out there somewhere and everywhere, looking after him. God helped him feel safer and braver when the wolf came at full moon. God stopped him hurting anybody and stopped anyone from finding out. God made him be a good boy. God helped Mammy and Daddy take care of him, and He looked after the poor and the sick and the lonely. And when an old, bearded man appeared one day and told Remus he could come to Hogwarts, Remus thought for a moment that He had come down from Heaven to make his prayers come true.

Remus hadn't liked to talk about his faith at school. He prayed under the covers in bed, not on his knees beside it, and kept his Bible hidden at the bottom of his trunk. Sirius, however, had wheedled the truth out of him after the Christmas holidays of their first year. Remus was embarrassed, but knew it was far from the worst secret he had to hide from his new friends. James' family were vaguely religious too, but he hadn't gone to church and didn't really believe. Sirius was fascinated with it all- "sacred" pureblood families were scathing towards religion, so Sirius’ Christmases and Easters had always been secular affairs. He pestered Remus for Bible stories and explanations of Christian traditions- "Feeding five thousand? He must have been using an engorgement charm," "So what does this Crucifixion thing have to do with chocolate eggs?" "I can't wait until they teach us that water into wine spell!". Realising that James, Peter and Remus all had a Bible character as a first or middle name, he flicked through Remus’ Bible for inspiration and tried to rebrand himself as Tilgathpilnesser Black. It didn't catch on. Remus didn't mind Sirius’ curiosity, but it made him uncomfortable when Sirius would question him seriously, "Do you actually believe all this? I mean _really?"_

"Well, yes," Remus murmured.

"Fascinating," marvelled Sirius, _"Amazing"._

It was a very different Sirius Black whom Remus had made pancakes for last night at Grimmauld Place. Padfoot was in a mopey, moany mood, and clingy too. When Remus was mixing the pancake batter Sirius had come up behind him and wordlessly put his head on Remus' shoulder.

"You're not putting doxy droppings in my pocket, are you?" Remus asked.

Sirius sighed. "No,"

Remus put the whisk down and poured the batter into the frying pan. "You flip first," he offered.

"I'm good at tossing," said Padfoot seriously, then grinned. Crass humour always cheered him up.

They made four pancakes each, slathered them in jam and chocolate spread and ate them at the kitchen table.

"What's pancake day in aid of?" Sirius asked through a mouthful of strawberry jam (sometimes his table manners were awful. Remus suspected that it was a reaction to being back in the house; a continued effort to annoy his family).

"You use up your butter and milk in time for Lent,"

"What's Lent?"

"It's when Jesus went into the wilderness. You're supposed to give something up- chocolate or alcohol or such,"

"Well, you're not giving up chocolate and I'm not giving up booze," Padfoot declared. Remus shrugged, but Sirius pressed on,  _"Are_  you giving something up, then?" 

"Haven't thought," Remus lied. He'd given it a lot of consideration, but he couldn't say it out loud to Sirius. What Remus _had_ decided to give up, was Tonks. From now on he wasn’t not going to think about her in the way he had been for the past few weeks. It had reached a stage now where she was always somewhere in his mind. Whenever something strange or funny happened, Remus wanted to tell her about it. He wanted to make her laugh. He imagined Tonks’ laugh a lot but he still found himself wanting to hear it for real. He wondered what it was like inside her head. She came out with the most ludicrous things and Remus was intrigued to know how her brain though of them. She didn't stop talking, which had irritated Remus at first, but now he wanted to listen to her all the time. He wanted to know all about her, hear everything she had to say. Remus wasn't sure when or how this had started, but he was putting a stop to it before he got in any further (he was too far in already) or did anything stupid to upset her or humiliate himself. The trouble was that although Remus knew that this infatuation was wrong, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt good. Thinking about Tonks made his insides squirm with pleasure, and spending time with her made his heart skip and his brain whirr excitedly. She was so exciting.

He kept imagining what it would feel like to kiss her. Hold her. Do more with her. That was even more bewildering because thinking about it felt good, but the goodness was also guilty and dirty. Wanting her like that was the wolf in him taking control.  At first Remus had tried to think of those unclean thoughts more, to allow the guilt to remind himself how wrong his attraction to Tonks was- but then he was back to enjoying thinking about her. It had made him dizzy, so he’d scrapped that idea and tried to stick to safer reasons why thinking about Tonks in that way was wrong: She was younger than him (she’d turned twenty-three over Christmas. Remus would be thirty-six in a couple of weeks. Fancying her was borderline creepy, especially since Sirius seemed convinced that Remus knew her when she was a child), she had her whole future in front of her (it was hardly a secret that Mad-Eye was priming Tonks to head up the Auror office one day), she was probably seeing someone else (there was definitely a boyfriend- or perhaps girlfriend? Remus wasn't sure- over the Summer, because Sirius teased her about it. Remus wasn't sure if that romance was still going). Tonks wouldn't in a million years be interested in an older, penniless, boring werewolf.

But. _But._ She hung out (her phrase) with him on the back porch a few times a week. More often than somebody who simply pitied him would. She laughed at his jokes. Sometimes Remus snuck glances at Tonks to find her looking back, and when she glanced away embarrassedly a mad part of him had started to reckon that wasn't because she was ashamed that he'd caught her watching him and thinking about the monster he turned into. The mad bit of Remus’ brain reckoned that Tonks was looking away because she was flustered that he'd caught her gazing at him. Eyeing him up- and then Remus was half amused, half-irritated at himself for being so presumptuous, and for daring to entertain the idea that there might be anything about him at all to eye up.

Sitting in his pew in church the past few weeks, Remus had tried to pray it away.  _Please God, stop me thinking about Tonks like this. Stop my heart hammering so loud for her. Please let her meet somebody sensible and fun and nice, and let her go out with them I get the message. And please God, please keep her safe._ And then the vicar started the Lord's prayer and Remus realised that hadn't spent any of the time for quiet personal prayers praying for the poor or the sick or the lonely, or for Sirius or Harry or any of his friends. He'd spent the whole time praying about Tonks.

Last Sunday Remus realised that God wasn't going to sort this out for him. He'd have to do it himself, and Ash Wednesday was the day to put a stop to this nonsense. He'd still be polite to Tonks, of course, but their chats on the Grimmauld Place back porch were a thing of the past. With enough determination and concentration, this infatuation would burn out. Come Easter he'd have forgotten all about this childishness. Remus walked down Coley Road and, having checked to see that nobody was watching, apparated home to his cottage. As he hung his coat up he noticed a letter on the doormat. The handwriting was Kingsley's. Remus ripped the envelope open quickly in case the news was urgent.

_R- Change of plans for next week. Podmore on guard duty and you and Tonks on observation at the Averys. Hope convenient. K._

He should have expected this. When Christ was in the wilderness, resisting temptation was hard.

Remus groaned.


	45. Wash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexual content.

Wash

She loves taking showers together. Shutting the bathroom door and pulling the plastic curtain across so it's just the two of them. No newspapers or radio peddling rubbish crap about Harry or Dumbledore or what’s so obviously happening in front of them. No Sirius cracking jokes or Molly looking pleased. No friends to argue about not telling, no rest of the world who won't understand. Being alone with him under the water is enjoyably intimate, and she's sure he must feel it too because sometimes he'll tell her something, about Sirius or his Mum, or something bad that's happened to him, which she doubts he'd bring up if they weren't under the water.

She likes looking at him naked too, studying his movements. He's so elegant. She's also much stringier than she'd anticipated. She'd hoped he'd have a bit of muscle on him, but his arms and torso are mostly flat. She doesn't mind. She likes watching water dribble down his face and over his collarbones, down to his shoulders and chest. He looks cute when he's dripping and pale with his wet hair plastered to his face. She dollops shampoo on her hands and slides her fingers into his hair, rubbing circles onto his scalp. He closes his eyes contentedly.

"Do you like that?" she asks. He's pretty quiet during anything physical; she usually has to coax a response out of him like this.

"Mmm,"

"Tell me,"

"Yes, I like it,"

She rubs lighter, skimming his skull with her fingertips. "Tell me more,"

"It- ah- that feels nice. Good. Really good,"

She moves closer, pressing her body against his, tipping his head back while she washes his hair. His hands wander round her waist, and she runs her fingers down his arm to his stomach, enjoying stroking his skin when it's slick and soapy. In the shower she can touch him all over (apart from his left shoulder, where the bite is. She tries not to look at it). Sometimes she sucks him off. He spends so much time hating his body and what it does to him that she likes to show him how good she can make it feel. She wants him to feel special. She likes kissing down his chest and stomach and dropping to her knees in front of him. She likes the control of it; intensifying and delaying and his pleasure. But she also likes it when he tells her what to do; slower, faster, deeper. She likes the way he strokes her hair, holds her neck and fondles her ears, his touch always so tender. Most of all she likes looking up at his face; he’s eager and unhinged. Possessiveness and lust purr in her stomach when she thinks proudly that nobody else gets to see him like this. This is just for her. This is all for her.

If he isn't in the mood himself he usually gets her off. He's not an incredible lover but he's very attentive. It's best when they're in his shower, where everything smells of his soap and she can lean against the cool tiles while he slips his hand under her knee to crook her leg up. Then, he kneels down and runs his lips over her shin and calf, his touch maddeningly light. He can make her come better with his hands than his mouth, so he usually kisses back up her body, getting to his feet as he slips his fingers between her legs. She drapes her arms around his neck and says his name over and over, murmuring at first and then louder, groaning over the sound of the water. He always looks pleased and impressed afterwards, like he's surprised he can do that to her. It's the cutest thing.

When they shower at her flat, he ribs her about how many different types of hair product she owns ("What's conditioner?", "What's the difference between hair putty and hair wax?", "I thought mousse was something you ate for pudding,") and she doesn't worry so much about wasting his water (he'd brought it up once and she'd barely known what he was talking about. Then she'd felt like she was spoilt because she's never had to worry about things like that). She likes using his soap, but it's also really sexy to watch him use hers and to imagine him smelling it later and thinking of her. She likes to think about him thinking about her. She likes him to smell like her too; like she's claimed him, he belongs to her. The belong to each other now. A few weeks ago she told him he could call her Dora; all her family call her that and he feels like part of her family. They sleep in his bed together, which she knows he hasn't done with anybody in ages. They're part of each other's worlds. For a while she tried to persuade him to go out together and meet her friends so they could be like normal couple. By now she's mostly given up on that- you have to pick your battles with him, and that was a losing one. Besides, perhaps she doesn't need dates and to bring him to parties to feel normal. Maybe normal is soap and tiles and skin, under the falling water.

* * *

He loves taking baths together. He's hopeless at romance, and even if he wasn't he can't afford to take her out to dinner or buy her nice things. He never has, although he doesn't feel so guilty about that now, because nearly every knut they have is going towards the baby. It's due in the middle of April- four and a half months away, and even though Molly has donated a pram, a Moses basket and crateful of baby clothes, there's bound to be more stuff to buy when the baby arrives. They're both working at the moment, but his manager's getting suspicious about his monthly absences, so he'll probably have to leave before the Winter's out. So presents and posh dinners aren’t on the cards. The one romantic thing he reckons he might actually be quite good at, though, is baths. He goes the whole nine yards- candles, soft music, baths salts of the variety which makes the lady behind the shop counter raise her eyebrows to see a man like him buy. He waits until Andromeda is in bed or has gone out for the evening, and then he runs the bath, pours in the salts, lights the candles, flicks the radio on and dims the lights. He leads his wife into the bathroom and kisses her softly, takes his clothes off and climbs into the bath. He helps her undress and step in after him- usually she'd get cross with him for mollycoddling her, but the newly-appeared bump's disorientated her. It's one morph she doesn't seem to have mastered. He's secretly pleased about that- he likes looking after her and he'll take any opportunity she gives him to do it. In the bath, he leans his back against the edge and she leans against his chest. She tangles their feet together and her hands rest over his over the baby.

"Tell us a story," she sometimes says. Us. From the starts she's referred to herself and the baby as us, we, our. It used to terrify him, but it doesn't anymore. Perhaps because it's started showing now (last week Molly squealed happily, "You've popped!" which he reckoned was a mildly worrying expression) so it seems more like a person. Sometimes "us" even refers to the three of them. That isn't terrifying at all. It's wonderful.

There's an unspoken rule that in the bath there's no discussion of the war, or the Order, Harry, Voldemort and Potterwatch. It dominates everybody's conversation these days, so in the bath allows him a brief time to just enjoy being with his wife (there is nothing "just" about his wife). They debate baby names, chat about music or books, or she tells him one of her ridiculous anecdotes to make him laugh.

Sometimes, with the lapping water and the soft music, looking down at her body and feeling her weight on top of him, he can't help but get hard. Before, he'd have got flustered and muttered an uncomfortable apology and an explanation that he didn't expect anything. Now he just lets her crane around to cock an amused eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. "You're beautiful,"

He always used to be awkward about saying that- he was awkward about lots of things, but specifically complementing her appearance was an odd area which he preferred not to try to navigate. People think of him as articulate, but she's always been better at expressing emotions. Right from the start she could look him the eye and tell him she loved him, she was angry at him, he was cute, he was wrong. Telling her how he feels back isn't so frightening anymore. She _is_ beautiful. He strokes her wet arms and swelling breasts, kisses her shoulders, laps at her earlobe, and murmurs how thankful he is that they met, how happy she makes him, how excited he is to meet their baby. Sometimes she's nervous about impeding motherhood, and in the bath he listens while she mumbles her anxieties to him. He knows he's a good listener, and he knows how unhelpful vague encouragements like _You'll be fine_ or _It'll work itself out_ are.

She doesn’t sleep well at night at the moment, partly because of the pregnancy and partly because she worries about her father. A couple of times she's ended up falling asleep in the bath. He never used to be too fussed about watching her sleep, but since they don't share a bed anymore it's nice to see her like that. Quiet and still, like she never is awake. Snuggled up to him, her olive skin against his pale chest, both of their bodies wet. He likes watching her wake up, wonder where she is for a moment, then remember, relax and turn round to ask with a sheepish smile, "Did I nod off?". She always looks pleased to see him. She always _is_ pleased to see him and that still boggles his mind, although by now he’s stopped questioning it. Now, he is simply grateful that any of this happened and that he’s found himself in a bathtub with this incredible woman who has given him such life, and holds the life they have created inside her.


	46. Married Life: Phobos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sex, language, and werewolves. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

" _[Lupin] swung constantly between elation that he was married to the woman of his dreams and terror of what he might have brought upon them both"_  

-JK Rowling on  _Pottermore_

_When the world has dealt its cards,_

_If the hand is hard, together we'll mend your heart,_

_Because when the sun shines, we'll shine together,_

_Told you I'd be here forever,_

_Said I'll always be your friend._

\- Rihanna,  _Umbrella_

 

Married life hasn't turned out how Tonks anticipated, although most things haven't turned out how she expected them to.

Their wedding day was Saturday 12th July 1997. She wants to write it on every parchment she can find, mark it on every calendar, tattoo it on her arms. 120797, 120797. Anyway, Remus had had a meltdown that evening and they'd spent their wedding night talking and sharing stories. Back in the Hufflepuff dormitories when Tonks was a teenager her friends had chatted about their dream wedding night, and Tonks' definitely had not featured holding her new husband while he cried and assuring him that their wedding had not ruined her life. Remus hadn't been much better when they'd made their way home on Sunday (a honeymoon wasn't on the cards); he was half-subdued half-jittery and he kept shooting Tonks nervous glances. He didn't say anything troubling out loud, though she wasn't sure if that was a relief or more of a worry.

As usual, he was still asleep when she left for work on Monday morning. She looked at him sadly, curled in bed, his hair looking greyer against the white pillow.  _It'll be alright,_  she promised herself,  _he just needs to adjust_. He wasn't like her, he needed time to get used to change. He'd come round.

Everybody had agreed that given Scrimgeour's anti-werewolf leanings their marriage was best kept secret outside of families and the Order, so Tonks had to pretend at work that she'd had an ordinary weekend doing the gardening and hanging out with friends. Kingsley usually stayed away from her at work, careful that them being seen to talk to each other too much would arouse suspicion that they were up to something, but he gave her a big smile as he strolled into the office that morning. Most of the day was taken up filing the paperwork from the previous weeks' arrests and investigations. The previous week. When she hadn't been married. Before Saturday 12th July 1997. Tonks felt herself grin in spite of everything.

When she got home that evening, she'd barely had time to step out of the fireplace before Remus dashed into the living room, grabbed her and snogged her hungrily. His mouth was insistent and his hands were everywhere and she felt him scoop her up and carry her into the bedroom. He tossed her on the bed and climbed on top and "Yes _,"_ Tonks mumbled, "Finally" _._ He was pulling at her t-shirt and stroking her waist, kissing her again and again.

"Wait," she murmured, pushing him away for a moment while she took off the necklace she'd been keeping her wedding ring on at work, unhooked the ring and slipped it back on her finger.

Remus beamed and pressed the ring to his lips, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in that lovely way he always did. "My wife,"

Then his mouth was back on hers, on her jaw, her throat. He was rummaging in her shirt and sliding his hands up her back to unhook her bra. He'd never been like this before- Tonks had no idea what was with him but she wasn't complaining. She groped for his belt and shirt buttons but he stopped her.

"No. Just you,"

"I-"

"Shh," he mumbled. He'd never shushed her before and Tonks would have snapped at him for it, except he continued, "Just you this time. Okay?"

He stamped a kiss to her mouth.

"Okay," she agreed. Remus grinned and peeled her clothes off and kissed her all over, mumbling that she was beautiful, he wanted her, he loved her. His touch was tantalisingly light and his kisses started softly sweet then became hot and open-mouthed. He was saying all these things to her that he hadn't said like this before, and they were  _married_  now, he was hers forever, and his tongue and his fingers were on her, inside her, teasing and stroking and loving. She'd never come so hard in her life. Then he let her undress him, and crawled over her again and made fast, frantic love to her. The headboard smacked against the wall but they were sighing and giggling and moaning too loud to notice. Afterwards Tonks was breathless and glowing and  _God,_ could they do that again please? Remus was still on top of her and inside her, face burrowed into her neck as he mouthed languid kisses against her skin, panting.

"That was  _good,"_  she breathed, "This isn't like you,"

Remus peeled his face away from her neck and looked at her. (Merlin's beard, he was handsome. How on Earth did she get this lucky?). He cocked a mischievously questioning eyebrow, which was so un-Remus-y that she had to laugh.

"No, I didn't mean like that. I mean what's brought all this on?"

Remus grinned his rarely-seen Marauder grin and said, "I fucking love you,"

Tonks had hardly ever heard him swear, and even then only the odd 'bloody' or 'bastard' under his breath. If this was a new version of Remus who swore and instigated rough sex then count her in. Tonks didn't say that out loud, she just grinned back and replied, "Good, because I love fucking you,"

Remus burst out laughing, spluttering so hard he had to pull out of her and flop onto his back on the mattress, and they guffawed together at the daft joke until the laughter became lost in kisses. He and Tonks spent the rest of the evening in bed, only getting up to collect the pizza they ordered in because neither could be bothered to cook. Back in the bedroom, Remus produced the bottle of champagne the Weasleys had sent.

"I'll get some glasses," he said, starting to stand up.

Tonks put her hand on his arm. "I don't think we'll need them,"

She winked and he grinned, handing her the bottle.

Tonks put her hand over his. "Together?"

"Together,"

She snuggled closer to him, giggling, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I'm crazy about you,"

Remus beamed, kissed her back, and they popped the cork loudly so that the champagne sputtered out of the bottle. They drank it straight from the bottleneck and poured it over each other to lick off. Usually Remus could only manage one round of sex a day, but they made love again, sticky and tipsy from the champagne. Tonks climbed on top, panting that he looked incredible, he tasted and smelt and felt incredible, everything was incredible.

The next four days were what Tonks was pretty sure were the definition of wedded bliss. Remus beamed constantly and told her over and over that he loved her. They'd agreed she wasn't changing her name but he kept calling her Mrs Lupin, and coming from him it sounded perfect. Panic at the Ministry was reaching fever-pitch, but what did that matter when Tonks came home to find that Remus had picked flowers for the kitchen table, sketched a portrait of her, or doodled silly comic strips starring them both? He cooked, he fixed the leek in the bathroom ceiling Tonks meant to sort out months ago, and on Wednesday afternoon he flicked the radio on and pulled her into a dance around the kitchen, dolloping kisses on her and chuckling when she trod on his toes. Evenings were spent snuggled on the sofa drinking tea or wine, talking and snogging and laughing. They had hot, loving sex every night and afterwards she'd fall sleep in his arms while he stroked her hair and gazed at her with a dopey smile.  _I knew this would happen,_  Tonks thought proudly,  _I knew I'd make you truly happy._

The full moon was due on Sunday so by Friday morning he was getting fatigued and achy. When Tonks got home in the afternoon Remus was lying on his back on the living room floor with his head resting on a stack of books. His eyes were closed but his breathing was too controlled for him to be asleep.

"Back pain?" Tonks asked, recognizing the position as one he used to take the weight off his neck.

"Hmmpf," he croaked, half-acknowledgement half-groan.

"How is it?"

"Same as usual. Turns out lumbago isn't one of those things that feels different after you get married,"

Tonks laughed, sat down cross-legged on the floor, took his hand and kissed it. Remus' eyes fluttered open momentarily as he gave her a weak smile. "Anything happen at work?"

"Everything happened at work," she told him, keeping hold of his hand, "Security's gone through the roof. Scrimgeour came round to our office today to give us all a stern word,"

"They're the only kind of words he has," Remus noted.

"Thank God for Kingsley. He left me a note to say congrats today, and he sends you his best. Have you eaten?"

"I had soup for lunch,"

"Okay, well I picked up some chicken breast and spuds on the way home,"

"Thanks,"

"Also perhaps a bar of chocolate or two,"

His eyes flickered open again. "You're wonderful,"

Tonks pressed another kiss to the back of his hand. "So are you,"

"Please don't burn dinner,"

"Hey," she protested. He was much better at cooking than she was. She was about to say something else but he winced uncomfortably.

"You good?" she asked.

Remus screwed his face up, made the noise again then exhaled. Then he said, "I think you mean 'Are you well?',"

She rolled her eyes, but was relieved that he was alright enough to correct her grammar. "Thanks, Professor. What shall we do tonight?"

He considered for a while. Then he said, "Do you think you could read to me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, course I will,"

Remus squeezed her hand, "Thank you,"

The book he was reading that week was a Muggle novel called  _The House of Mirth._ He was two-thirds of the way through so Tonks didn't have much idea what was going on, and the story seemed pretty boring anyway. But Remus liked boring books. It was American so Tonks performed it in an assortment of American accents, which made him laugh, and making Remus laugh was the best thing she could do for him. He perked up after dinner and they had another happy evening nestled on the sofa, his head in her lap, kissing her fingers while they listened to the radio. Remus went to bed early, telling her that he'd probably still be awake when she came to bed later.

"So don't worry about being quiet," he added.

"Nah, I'll sleep on the sofa,"

"Don't be daft,"

"I'm not. You're tired, you're ill, you need the space,"

"I'm not turfing you out of your own bed," Remus protested.

"Not mine. It's ours now,"

He gave Tonks one of those looks which made her stomach do something which was probably a flutter but about fifty times more violent. She wasn't sure what he was going to say next and she didn't think she wanted to hear it.

"More to the point we both know you're going to be awake tossing and turning all night, and I want to  _sleep,"_  she said firmly, "I'll have the sofa,"

Remus itched his shoulder thoughtfully, considering. Eventually he said in a resigned sort of voice, "Well alright, if you insist,"

He didn't sound happy about it, but he fetched her the spare duvet anyway.

* * *

Sunday evening rolled around. The Moon was set to rise at six minutes to nine. At half eight Remus was sitting on the bed, eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling steadily. Tonks was leaning on the doorframe and watching him carefully.

When he realised she was there he said miserably, "I suppose you've never seen me do this without Wolfsbane,"

"No,"

"Well, I'll apparate off to the forest at about twenty to,"

"Which forest?"

"Sometimes Galloway, sometimes Kielder. Argyll on occasion. Variety is the spice of werewolf transformations,"

He was trying to sound brave. He  _was_ brave, Tonks reminded herself. He went through this painful, violent, humiliating ritual every month. He was the bravest person she'd ever met. Tonks watched him do his breathing exercises, and when he opened his eyes she told him, "I love you,"

Remus didn't reply.

"Say it back to me," Tonks prompted, going over to him but resisting the temptation to put a consoling hand on his shoulder.

He looked confused but obeyed; "I love you too,"

"No, you muppet. Tell me you know that  _I_ love you,"

"Oh, right. You love me,"

"Again," she insisted. He had to know. He had to have said it and felt it and had those words in his mouth to keep her love with him through the night.

"My wife Nymphadora loves me very much," Remus recited.

"She does. Enough to let you off calling her by her first name. How much time do you have?" she asked, sitting down beside him and taking his hand.

He glanced at his watch, "A bit less than ten minutes,"

"We can work with that. Do you want me to do anything?" Tonks asked, "To-remind you of how- much I- love you". She lifted his hand up and interspersed every few words with a kiss to the inside of his wrist. He liked kisses there

Remus smiled, looking amused. "No, thanks. I don't think I'd be up to much anyway,"

Oh. She'd forgotten that he went off sex around the full moon. Tonks pecked his cheek. "We can save it up for when you feel better,"

"Alright," he said, then added with a jolt of realization, "Err, do you? Need- want- you know?"

She laughed. "Nah, it's fine,"

"Yes. Good," he said awkwardly.

"You're funny," Tonks told him. He'd been much keener on sex most of this week, so she'd forgotten how cute his awkwardness about it could be.

It wasn't funny a little later, when he apparated away clutching his wand and a tatty blanket.

"I'll see you in the morning," Remus told her, and she hated that he was using his reassuring tone with her when it was him who needed consoling.

"Yeah. I- I don't know what to say," she mumbled.

"That's a first," he said, but his smirk was wan.

"Stay safe. God, that's a stupid thing to tell you," she said, running a hand through her hair.

"You'll get used to this," said Remus. The smirk disappeared and he looked pale and rather shocked at himself, "I have to go now,"

He disapparated abruptly before Tonks could tell him she loved him again. Her living room seemed suddenly cavernous and quiet. Lonely, which was stupid because she'd  _lived here_  alone until less than a fortnight ago. Sighing, Tonks drew the curtains and took her watch off. She set the timer for the oven to go off at five past eight so she didn't have to know the exact moment that the moon rose. She flicked the radio on, but that made her feel nervous. Tonks tried to read the spy novel she was halfway through. After ten minutes she realised she'd read the same page over and over, registering none of the words. Sighing, she tossed the book down and resolved to lift weights for a while- you had to be fit for Auror training, and at least it would occupy her body if not her brain.

Exercising worked, but Tonks was frustrated to realise that weights, sixty sit-ups and sixty press-ups only took half an hour. She picked up the battered copy of  _The House of Mirth,_ although that made her think of Remus, and what he must be feeling right now. What would he be doing? She should have asked. Nothing was more heartbreaking than imagining the sweetest, kindest man in the world being bruised and bashed as the wolf inside him tried to get out. It was a million times worse now he wasn't on medication- he'd told how when he came round as human again he sniffed and licked the blood on him arms, hoping desperately that it was his own. Nobody deserved that, especially not her beautiful husband. Tonks twisted her wedding ring nervously around her finger. Remus was right when he told her she'd get used to this. It was like exams or periods or cigarettes- the first one was nerve-wracking and disorientating, but you got used to it. But the thought of Remus' body being ripped apart didn't seem like something she'd ever get used to.

It was an awful night. Tonks changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed, knowing there was no way she was going to sleep. Like the living room, the bed felt big and empty without him. She reached over and touched the spot on the pillow where his head usually was. Was she being pathetic- she'd slept here alone for years, and now after a fortnight it didn't seem right? But it wasn't just that Remus wasn't there, it was that he  _was_ somewhere in the forest of Galloway and he was dirty and bloody and out of his mind and in so much danger.

She'd seen the wolf once before, at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had been there- he liked to be in charge when Remus transformed- and they'd held hands as he led her into the cellar to the wolf.

"Don't be scared," Sirius warned.

"Scared? Get a life, Sirius," Tonks had scoffed, lying. When they'd got to the bottom of the cellar steps the wolf was crouched in the corner, looking away from them. Tonks remembered gripping Sirius' hand tightly, and that the pressure he returned felt like a vice. The size of the wolf shocked her, as did its ugliness. Tonks had seen pictures off transformed werewolves in school textbooks, but the wolf in the cellar was a grotesque caricature of the diagram.

Lying in bed stating up at the ceiling, she winced thinking how unfair it was that Remus, who was neat, had to turn into something so dirty and matted. Remus, who until this week had been shy and nervy about sex, had to turn into a wolf with a huge cock dangling between its legs wanting to hump anything. Remus, who was always in control of himself, had to lose control in such a violent way. But, she thought sadly, would he have his neatness and his cute shyness and his control if he  _wasn't_  a werewolf? Were they all a reaction to how he was when he changed? If he wasn't a werewolf and hadn't gone through all this hell, would he be the man she'd fallen in love with? Tonks wasn't sure how to feel about that.

She tried to flip through Order paperwork but it just made her think of Remus, or of Dumbledore. He'd been dead more than a fortnight now and it was starting to sink in. It wasn't so much the shock that he was  _dead-_  he'd been very old for as long as anybody could remember. Even Mad-Eye hadn't met Dumbledore until the headmaster was in his sixties- it was that he had been  _murdered_ by  _Snape_ and  _blasted_   _off the astronomy tower._  The headmaster killed in his own school by one of his own staff. The founder of the Order of the Phoenix killed by one of the members. Snape had always been a bastard, obviously, and there had always been suspicion, but Dumbledore swore he'd changed sides. Remus had been odd about it, he never questioned Snape's motives even through Snape clearly hated him. Usually Remus was fun to argue with, but he'd been unmovable on that subject. Remus and Sirius had been cagey about why Snape had stopped teaching Harry Occlumency, so Tonks had stopped bringing the subject up. The fact that Dumbledore had been wrong was even more shocking than the fact that it had been Snape who'd killed him. They'd all been naive about what Snape was capable of, and what Dumbledore wasn't.

Last year she'd been wracked with shame about Sirius dying when she was supposed to protect him. This year the guilt wasn't so bad- nobody could have predicted how the Malfoy boy smuggled Death Eaters into school. When it had kicked off she'd been there, and she knows that she probably saved Ginny's life on that Tower. The Ministry review of what had happened was a farce, obviously, but Mad-Eye had told her that there was little chance she and the other Hogsmeade Aurors would face investigation ("Shame about Dawlish," he'd grunted). Mad-Eye had been coping with Snape's betrayal by being even more distrustful than usual. That was annoying, and it had hurt when his reaction to, "Mad-Eye, guess what? Remus and I are getting married!" had been, "That doesn't sound like him. How d'you know it wasn't an imposter?". Tonks hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks now, and was looking forward to him being at the Order meeting in a few days' time.

And then- there was a scrape at the front door. Tonks sat upright in bed, grabbed her wand, ran to the hallway, wrenched open her flat door, dashed out into the building hallway and unlocked the building front door. Remus was there on his hands and knees- naked and pale, panting and grubby. Tonks felt like the switch on her body marked  _Breath_ had been turned up to maximum. She hadn't realised it had been off all night.

"Oh thank God, there you are. Are you alright? Come on, let's get you inside," Tonks gabbled. She reached out to haul Remus in but he flinched.

"Shit, are you hurt? Oh my God,"

He shook his head and, gasping, staggered into the building hallway and through the flat door. Then he was on his knees again, retching. He reeked of a mixture of sweat, piss and earthiness.

"Remus? What's wrong? Merlin, everything's wrong, I'm sorry, I-"

"'M alright," he rasped, "Hurt. Bed,"

He clawed the wall with one hand and hauled himself to his feet, which were dirty and bloodied. Tonks held out a hand and he grabbed it so hard that it hurt, like Sirius' had done back in the cellar. Swaying, Remus walked to the bedroom.

"It's alright. It's over," Tonks murmured, "You're home now, you're safe. I'll look after you,"

He didn't seem to be listening, and when they got to the bedroom he hurled himself onto the bed. There was a nasty-looking open cut down his muddy back, and couple of bruises already on his ribcage.  _Oh, Remus_ Tonks thought, pained, but out loud she told him:

"Look, I got you Essence of Dittany and the plasters". Always having the correct equipment set out, and overriding emotion with pragmatism- she hadn't been trained my Mad-Eye Moody for nothing.

Remus waved a shaky thumbs-up.

"There's some soup on the stove if you want it? Do you want it?" Tonks demanded. Food, warmth, Dittany, anything. She'd get it for him. She'd make him feel better.

He shook his head and croaked, "Fine,"

"Do you need anything else?"

Remus exhaled shakily. He pulled the duvet up over his shoulder before Tonks could do it for him, and murmured, "Leave me…alone. Please?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course," said Tonks. She hadn't thought of that, "Can you sort yourself out with the Dittany?"

Remus nodded.

"Err, okay. Well, I'll be nextdoor if you need anything," she told him.

He nodded again. Tonks pulled the blanket up unnecessarily, brushing his neck with her fingertips. She hoped that the touch to let him know that she was here and she'd take care of him, and that whatever had happened in the night didn't matter to her because she knew the real Remus, and the real Remus wasn't anything like the werewolf.

He made an odd groaning noise in the back of his throat and flopped away from her touch, sprawling onto the bed. He was still panting and shivering. Reluctantly, Tonks backed away from him, only stopping when she was halfway through the bedroom door.

"Remus?"

He glanced at her with unfocused eyes.

"I'm really glad you're home safe".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in a future chapter. Thanks very much for reading- this one has been half-written for months so I'm pleased to finally have published it. If you have a moment, please review to let me know what you thought. Thanks very much, and have a great weekend.


	47. Data

He said that he wanted them to look inconspicuous, so he wasn’t surprised when Tonks turned up in yellow tights, a purple dragon-skin jacket, a skirt so short he wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to put it on at all, and neon-turquoise hair.

“Wotcher, Remus,”

But he couldn’t pretend to not be pleased to see her. “Hello,”

She stepped out of his fireplace, flicked ash off her shoulder, and stamped a wet kiss on his cheek.

“You ready?” she asked, rubbing her thumb over where her mouth had touched his skin (it had taken Remus few weeks to realise that when she did that she was wiping off the lipstick she’d just smudged onto his face. Sometimes he had to laugh about how little he knew about having a girlfriend).

“Yes,” he nodded, looking Tonks up and down. There wasn’t a chance they were going to get into  any pub without people looking at her. Which, Remus thought wearily, was what she wanted. Tonks always wanted to be noticed. He usually wanted to be overlooked.

“But, well…” he added, tailing off.

“Oh right, my face. What do you want me to look like?” she chirped. When he agreed to go out with her (he didn’t like the word “date”) he made her promise that she’d go wearing another face. Someone more his age, he’d suggested, so they could pretend she was his sister. Although it wasn’t going to work since Tonks hadn’t deigned to dress accordingly.

“Anything not like yourself,” Remus suggested half-heartedly.

“Come on, be more specific. Was there at a girl at school who you’d want everybody to know you’ve landed?”

Remus sat down on one of his rickety armchairs. “No,”

“You can tell me, I don’t mind,” Tonks shrugged.

“There were no girls at school,” he told her stiffly.

She grinned her wicked grin. “That’s not what Sirius told me,”

Remus sighed. “Yes, and he probably added that any girl who appeared interested in _me_ was _in fact_ using me to get closer to _him,”_

“Aaw, poor Moony, surrounded by girls who wanted to go to third base with you. Just what every teenage boy dreads,”

He knew she was teasing him but he wasn’t sure what she meant. That happened a lot. “Third what?”

“Base. It’s an American Muggle thing, it means- actually, never mind. You and me have barely got to second,”

She rolled her eyes and screwed up her face. The red hair darkened and curled, and her cheeks filled out. The twins and Ron were fixated on the process and fluidity of her morphs, and liked to watch her change. That had always struck Remus as voyeuristic, but unsurprisingly Tonks didn’t mind.

When she finished her straining and wincing, the woman looking back at Remus had curly brown hair, brown eyes and freckles. She looked about Remus’ age, which meant she looked younger than he did.

“How’s this?” she asked. Her voice was different too.

“Well, it looks rather strange with the yellow tights,” Remus pointed out.

“We’re going to Camden. Nobody’ll notice,”

He must have looked uncomfortable because Tonks added gently, “Hey. Thank you for doing this for me. It’ll be fine, yeah?”

He’d been trying to convince himself of that for the past few days. Nobody had batted an eyelid when he and Tonks taken the kids back to school together on the Knight Bus. Today they’d be going to a busy Muggle place on a Saturday night _and_ she wasn’t wearing her usual face. Even if somebody recognised _him_ , they won’t know who he was with. Besides, going out with her would add to the illusion that he was a decent boyfriend (Tonks see through that obviously, but Remus knew that the effort was what mattered to her), they could do something new together, and they’d have fun. He always had fun with her.

“I know,” Remus muttered. He stood up, picked his jacket up from where it’d been hanging on the back of the armchair and shrugged it on, checked that his wallet was in the pocket, and held his hand out to Tonks so they could disapparate together. And when they did he was smiling.

* * *

Number three. Remus watched Tonks’ eyes flick over to the stocky blond-haired man in the jeans and green jacket walking by on their left. He was the _third_ handsome young Muggle man they’d passed on the street who she’d been distracted by. Her glances were only momentary, but they were moments longer than one usually looked at a passer-by. Remus had never considered himself a jealous person, and it wasn’t jealousy or resentment he was feeling towards the boys his girlfriend was double-taking at. It was resignation. _Of course_ she was looking at them. Why wouldn’t she be? They were normal, good-looking men. They were her age and probably had sensible jobs and actual friends and some promise of a future. They’d do important or interesting things with their lives. They were the sort of men she could introduce to her friends because her friends would _actually like_ them. They were men who were happy, or who would be in the future, and who would be fulfilled and successful like she would be. Men like her. Men, Remus thought wearily, not like him.

* * *

 He let Tonks choose where they went for a drink. She needled him to decide but Remus kept muttering that he wasn’t sure.

“This is more your field than mine,” he insisted.

Tonks rolled her eyes and they’d ended up in a little bar decked out like a 1920s speakeasy.

“Look, Remus, old stuff. You like that,” she’d said. Usually she was touchy when he called himself old, so he knew when she said that that she was irritated with him, and was sniping at him beyond her usual friendly teasing. Remus couldn’t entirely blame her- he knew he was being timid and indecisive, but this expedition was starting to feel like a bad idea. Despite his repeated mental mantra of _it’s fine it’s fine,_ being in public with Tonks was making Remus feel exposed. He kept imagining the sinking in his stomach when he realised that somebody had recognised him, and then guilt for the mess Tonks find herself in afterwards. Remus’ initial notoriety after resigning from Hogwarts two years ago had died down after a couple of months, and there had only been a handful of unpleasant encounters in Diagon Alley. But a few weeks ago that damn article mentioning him in relation to the centaurs had been published, and the scandal had leaked back into public consciousness. If someone who knew Tonks from the Ministry saw them together and realised it was her, they’d ask what she was doing out with a known werewolf, and surely her boss at the Auror office would get wind of it, and while being seen in public with a werewolf wasn’t a sackable offence for an Auror, it wouldn’t do her any favours. Every time Tonks mentioned one of her mates Remus dreaded to think what they’d say if they knew about him (perhaps she’d listen to them, see sense and end things with him. Is that what Remus was afraid of, he wondered? Selfish bastard). Not to mention the risk to the Order. Taking the kids to school on the Knight Bus had given her a degree of protection, partly because whichever side anyone who’d seen them stood on regarding Harry, they could be convinced that he needed to be accompanied by adults, either for his own protection or the safety of others. Plus, when you were travelling with Harry Potter anybody else in the vicinity was unlikely to be looking at you.

Despite Tonks wearing a different face at Remus’ insistence, the fact that she was made him feel awkward. He didn’t mind when she messed about with her nose or her hair her, because he could still see her usual face underneath. But this completely new face made it seem like she wasn’t really Tonks. He hadn’t expected to feel as uncomfortable about that as he did.

“I think I’ll get a cocktail,” she announced from behind the menu, “What about you?”

“Just a larger,” Remus replied, taking his wallet out from his inside pocket. He’d collated all of his Muggle money the day before and had been pleased to discover that he had enough for at least a couple of drinks each. Perhaps a bit of booze was needed to cheer this date up, he thought wryly.

Tonks put her hand on his. “I’ll get it,” she told him.

“Thanks, but I’ve-“

“Remus “

“Just let me,”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll-“

“I want to do something nice for you for once,” he said impatiently. Merlin’s beard, why was she always arguing?

“You’re always nice to me,” Tonks protested, “You make me food, you lend me books-“

It wasn’t the same and he knew she knew it. He hated her making excuses for him. “I’m getting you a drink,” he announced.

“You really don’t have to,”

“I can afford a pint, you know,” Remus scoffed. He was lucky to have friends who helped him out with money and places to stay. Poverty had been his lot in life for so long that Remus was hardly humiliated by it any more. But this was different. This was his girlfriend for goodness sake. He didn’t need her charity.

Tonks huffed, folded her arms, thought for a moment and then said unexpectedly, “The bartender- is it a man or a woman?”

“What?”

“They’re behind me, have a look,”

Unsure where this was going, Remus craned around to get a look at the bar. The man behind it was pouring a glass of wine for a young woman seated on a barstool.

“Man,”

Tonks beamed, “Wicked,”

She was without doubt the most perplexing person he had ever met. “Why?”

Tonks winked, then pulled her jacket hood up and put her hands over her face like she was a child playing hide and seek. After a few moments, she moved her hands away again. The curly-haired woman was gone and had been replaced by a very beautiful, very blonde teenage girl. Her skin was translucent, almost shiny, her eyes were huge and blue and her features were delicate. The girl bit her lip and looked up at Remus innocently.

“Can I have a martini and a larger, please?” she asked in a high, brittle voice.

“Err, what are you going?” Remus asked.

“Getting us free drinks,” the beautiful girl shrugged, then added in a tone which suggested Remus was being an idiot, “I’m the Delacour girl,”

“Who?”

“The Beauxbatons champion from the Tri-Wizard,” Tonks elaborated.

“Oh yes. I remember”. Remus had seen photos and followed the fortunes of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions, but his focus had been on Harry and Cedric. The tournament was almost a year ago now and so much had happened since that he’d forgotten about the two non-Hogwarts competitors.

“Also known as the most stunning girl on the _planet._ I’ve been using her for a few months, mostly on Muggle guys,” Tonks explained. She wriggled off her jacket, yanked her t-shirt down her chest and screwed her eyes up again. Her breasts swelled outwards.

“D’you think these are okay, or would he like bigger?” she asked.

Remus took another glance at the barman, then wondered what on Earth he was doing and looked back to Tonks. “I don’t know,”

“Well, what would _you_ like?”

Was she honestly asking him what size breasts he’d prefer on the body of an eighteen-year-old? (A nasty voice in Remus’ head pointed out that eighteen was only five years younger than twenty-three). A body which wasn’t even Tonks’? A body she had in fact copied from somebody else? _Stolen_ from someone else?

“I don’t know,” said Remus, sounding slightly more annoyed than he wanted to.

“Honestly Remus, are you sure you’re not gay?” she scoffed.

He had no idea what to say to that. Tonks laughed and grew her breasts larger. It made Remus’ skin crawl. The beautiful busty girl winked at him, flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, stood up and sauntered over to the bar, hips swaying above willowy legs. She didn’t even trip over. Remus concentrated on running his thumb into the grooves on the table so he didn’t have to watch what was happening at the bar. The idea of Tonks flirting with another man didn’t bother him much- he’d seen the way she looked at the Muggle boys on the street- but the fact that she was so casual about what was essentially committing identity theft did. Mostly Remus liked the way she bamboozled him and made him question everything he took for granted. But he disapproved of her being this brazen- although that was _his_ fault, not hers. He was too old and too boring. Tonks could date plenty of men who’d reckon that her disguising herself as a beautiful French teenager was hilarious and cool.

“Free, both of them, thank you Miss Delacour,” announced a voice. Remus looked up to see the blonde girl holding a pint of beer and a bright orange cocktail and wearing a smug expression which looked at home on the beautiful face. Tonks dumped both glasses on the table and sat down, grinning. She clinked their glasses and took a long gulp of whatever was in hers. Remus watched her thoughtfully, not realising how long the silence was until she demanded suddenly, “What are you thinking about?” Tonks asked. They said that each other that often, and Remus could never believe that she was interested in his answers. Hers were always more interesting- she’d be thinking about some anecdote from school, gossip from the Ministry, or a bizarre fact she’d learnt somewhere. Or she’d just say, “Buffaloes” or “Majorca” and then go back to thinking about it. Or she’d look him in the eye and say, “You”.

“Nothing really,” Remus muttered, sighing.

“Tell me,”

“Just…beer,” he lied.

“What about it?”. Remus doubted she was actually interested. She just liked asking questions.

“I used to like bitter when I was younger, now I like larger more. Ironic,” he mumbled, attempting to smile.

“My uncle’s always on at my dad to give up beer. He won’t do it though,” Tonks rattled on.

“Hmm,”

“I told you my uncle’s on this health kick now, didn’t I? He doesn’t eat carbs after ten in the morning or something daft like that,”

“Right,”

“And salads that are basically grass,”

“Yes,”

“And he’s also a yellow elephant from Morocco named Captain Hammock,”

“Okay,” Remus shrugged.

“You’re not listening,” Tonks retorted, her tone yanking Remus out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“You’re not listening to me. What’s up?”

“Nothing,”

“Are you sure?”

Remus looked at the beautiful girl uncomfortably. “Can you go back to the face you had before? It’s…strange to be here with her,” he asked.

“Course,”

Tonks pulled her hood up and covered her face with her hands, taking them away a few moments later to reveal the curly-haired freckly woman again.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thanks,”

“D’you know what I like about you? You’d prefer to be seen hanging out with this old lady rather than some beautiful French girl,”

“Well, you know why that is,” Remus sighed.

“Yeah, cos you’re interesting,”

She said it without missing a beat, as if she actually believed it. Of all the things which befuddled Remus about his girlfriend, that was the most bamboozling. But, since he knew that one day Tonks would grow out of this madness, it was also the thing about her which was the most depressing.

* * *

 “Well, concluding thoughts?” Tonks asked, kicking her feet up on the arm of the sofa and taking a sip of tea (she was going to spill it, he could tell).

“Was alright,” Remus shrugged, dropping into the armchair.

Tonks looked at him shrewdly over the top of her mug. “You didn’t like it, did you?”

Her tone was direct and there wasn’t a hint of disappointment in it. If anything, that made it worse. What was he supposed to tell her- that the whole experience had given him an encyclopaedia’s more proof that this relationship was unfair on her, that they weren’t right for each other, that she’d lose interest him in, that he was only causing himself pain in the long-run? This whole thing was stupid.

“Remus?”

“Well, I…I was nervous,”

“Merlin, really? That wasn’t obvious at all,” Tonks drawled sarcastically, “Are you going to tell me you were distracted today too, because that’s going to blow my mind,”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure if her teasing was friendly or angry, but even if she was kidding him she was right.

“You don’t deserve this,” Remus added. But she’d end things with him soon anyway, so she could move on and date somebody ordinary who she could actually go out and have fun with. Remus concentrated on his mug and, silently, sipped his tea.

“You tried it at least, though,” Tonks prompted gently after a long pause, “It means a lot that you’d do something like this for me,”

He sighed. “Right,”

“I mean it. Look, not to bring it up again but this is why I don’t care who pays for what, because you _do_ things. I know you’re paranoid, but we tried it, didn’t we?”

She put her tea down (half of it spilled on the carpet), came over to Remus and leaned on the arm of the chair.

“Alright, I don’t deserve this, because you’re so bloody special and I don’t deserve you”. She said a lot of ridiculous things, but this was surely the most. But Remus didn’t want to look like he was fishing for compliments, so he shrugged and looked at his knees. Tonks caught his chin in one hand and tipped his face up to hers.

“And unless you’ve got any other girlfriends squirreled away somewhere, you’ll have to take it from me that you’re a really, _really_ great boyfriend. Understand?”

She was so lovely, even when she said crazy things like that. _Especially_ when she said crazy things like that.

“I understand,” he lied. It was difficult not to smile when she was touching him and grinning at him and being so unrealistically sweet.

“Good,” said Tonks. She dived forward for a kiss, moving her hand up to cup Remus’ jaw. The fact that she _wanted_ to kiss him still flabbergasted him. It didn’t just feel good, it felt _right._ That rightness was shameful to admit, but it was also wonderful. Tonks pulled away, then reconsidered and leaned in again for another kiss (she couldn’t stop- his mind boggled) and asked, “Better?”

She drummed her fingers on the side of Remus’ face. She was grinning at him with that mischievous smile and that mad Black glint in her eye. She was so alluring, so attractive. Remus tried not to think like that too often (he knew her when she was seven, so it was creepy even before you counted the werewolf in the room) but it was difficult when she touched him and kissed him and had that look on her face.

“Why do we have to go out when we could stay in doing this?” Remus pointed out.

Tonks cocked an eyebrow sceptically. “Because you’re bloody weird about this too, you moron,”

“You may have a point,”

 _“But_ you are _still_ an amazing boyfriend, right?” she insisted, gripping his shoulder.

Remus leaned up to kiss her so he didn’t have to reply, but she put a hand up to his mouth to stop him.

“Nope, you’re not getting away that easy. Agree that you’re an amazing boyfriend,”

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes as he deflected the question.

Tonks twisted her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled gently. It should have hurt, but nothing hurt when she looked at him with that dreamy, teasing expression. “Say you agree,”

 _No. I’m a useless boyfriend. You’re very sweet but you’re very incorrect, and from today’s events I conclude that you know that already._ “Alright, I agree,”

And again, what should have felt wrong felt inexplicably right. Tonks let go of his hair, pecked his cheek and leaned into his chest. “Thank you for today,” she murmured.

Remus wrapped his arms around her back and, to avoid pointing out that it was him who should be thanking her, muttered, “That’s okay,”

Surely she wasn’t comfortable, kneeling on the floor and with the chair’s arm sticking into her stomach, but she stayed there for a while, solid against him, breathing against his neck. This extraordinary woman who threw his world upside-down every day. It would be over soon, he reminded himself. But when Tonks murmured that she had to get home, kissed him goodbye, then stood up, grabbed a handful of Floo powder and disappeared into the fire, Remus found that he was still smiling.


	48. Married Life: Deimos

_"[Lupin] swung constantly between elation that he was married to the woman of his dreams and terror of what he might have brought upon them both,"_

\- JK Rowling on  _Pottermore._

_You can run into my arms,_

_It's okay, don't be alarmed,_

_Come here to me._

_There's no distance in between our love,_

_So go on and let the rain pour,_

_I'll be all you need and more_

\- Rihanna,  _Umbrella._

It was easier to sleep now that he was back. Tonks pulled the duvet over herself on the sofa, and managed to catch a couple of hours of kip before the alarm clock shrieked to wake her up for work. She didn't like running on two hours of sleep, but being an Auror got you used to it. Tonks downed a coffee and crept into the bedroom to get dressed. Remus was sleeping on his side, facing away from her. Tonks noticed that the Dittany bowl was empty and he had a couple of plasters on his arm. The pillow was grimy from his face, and there were a couple of twigs which had fallen out of his hair on it. For a split-second Tonks considered waking him, then realised that was stupid and selfish- he needed his sleep. She got dressed as quietly as possible, then refilled the bowl of Dittany and made a sandwich and a cup of tea to leave by the bed. She wrote a note alongside it-  _Hope you feel better! Can't wait for cuddles later xxxxxx._

* * *

Stepping out of the fire that evening, Tonks noticed that the jumper Remus had left of the sofa wasn't there anymore. In the bathroom, his razor and toothbrush had moved from where they'd been that morning, and the bath looked like it had been used. Tonks knocked on the bedroom door (an odd thing to do considering that it was her own room) and pushed it open quietly. Remus was slumped over with his eyes closed and the blanket twisted around his waist. The mug and plate were empty on the table beside him.

"Remus?" she whispered.

He didn't respond.

"Wotcher, Remus. You okay?"

Tonks crossed over to the bed, tempted to snuggle up to Remus' body and run her fingers through his hair. But she wasn't sure if he'd hurt himself, so she climbed into bed without touching him, hoping that the movement would wake him up. It worked, because Remus' eyes flickered open and he looked at her.

"Hi," Tonks whispered, "How are you?"

His eyes closed again slowly, "'M fine,"

"How was it?"

"Bad,"

"Oh," she said, feeling stupid, "Sorry to hear that,"

"Hmmph," he said. His eyes fluttered closed as he fell asleep again.

* * *

Tuesday. She came home to find him on the sofa in his pyjamas with his knees tucked up to his chest. He was conjuring a flock of bluebirds to fly over his head. Despite his grey, grazed face, it was a relief to see him out of bed.

"Wotcher," said Tonks, leaning down to peck his cheek, "Nice to see you up,"

Remus stiffened at her touch and waved his wand so that the bluebirds disappeared.

"You should stay away from me," he croaked.

Bugger. This was not a good sign. "Well that's a bit tricky now we're married, isn't it?" Tonks pointed out. She unhooked her wedding ring from the necklace and slipped it back on her finger, hoping that Remus would take the hint. He ignored it.

"Look what I've done to y-"

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" Tonks asked, trying to wrench the subject off this uncomfortable turf, "What happened?"

"It isn't important," he muttered.

She was unable to stop the frustration in her voice. "How is it not important?".

"Look what I've done to you," Remus repeated. He wasn't looking at her and his tone was timid and ashamed.

Tonks winced. Not this again. She thought they were done with this _._ "You weren't saying that in bed the other night," she growled, "Or at dinner on Thursday. Or, as a random example, at our wedding,"

"Our wedding was a-" he began to say, but cut himself off.

"A what? A mistake?"

"I'm tired," Remus announced, standing up abruptly, "I'm going back to bed,"

Tonks flicked her wand to shut the door. "No. We're talking about this now. I'm not putting up with you having more mood-swings than Ron Weasley. I'm not spending the next fifty years not knowing if I'm going to come home to the version of you who loves me or the version who hates himself,"

"I  _do_ love you, which is why I should have put a stop to this before we ended up here,"

He might as well have slapped her. "That's a horrible thing to say. We've been married  _nine days"._ How could he say that after nine days?

"And on one of those days I've become a monster," Remus pointed out.

She hated that word, most of all when he said it about himself, and even more when he did so in this self-pitying way. He was so flipping frustrating. "Do you not get sick of this? This  _endless_ telling me you're not worth it, because it's boring me to death. You were happy last week and you know you were. Can't you just think back to that?"

"I'm not going to lie. I can't pretend that this isn't the reality," Remus said wearily, then sighed, "I'm going to bed,"

"Oh, and you'll wake up tomorrow and it'll all be fine again," Tonks couldn't help but snap.

"I thought that's what you wanted?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah it  _is_. I want you to be like that all the time.  _I want you to be happy,_ "

"That's not your responsibility,"

"I'm your wife. Of course it's my responsibility,"

"I-"

"-and you're bloody well not making  _me_  happy right now," she snarled.

"No," Remus mumbled sadly, "No. Well, there we are,"

"What's that supposed to mean? For once can't you say what you actually mean?"

"Look, I don't want to argue-"

"-could have fooled me,"

Remus rubbed a hand across his face and groaned.

"Is this some sort of plan to make me hate you?" Tonks accused, "Because you've tried that before and I seem to remember it involved you living with werewolves for eight months and us getting married anyway,"

"I don't want you to hate me," he rasped.

"Sure about that?"

"Of course I'm sure". He sounded more impatient now.

"Then what are you playing at? Seriously, Remus, what am I supposed to do? Because from where I'm standing I just had the- the best four days of my life since we came home," Tonks' voice cracked, "And I don't know what I'm supposed to do about you and your bloody self-destruct button,"

She saw the struggle in Remus' face for a moment. Guilt. Turmoil. Love. Panic. Fear. He was always so fearful. Then he came over and put his arm around her shoulders. Tonks wanted to feel relieved that he was letting himself touch her again, but everything was too tense.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm worn out," Remus said heavily, "This full moon felt like a bad one and it's brought a few things home to me. Things I was trying to forget,"

Tonks looked him in the eye. "You were better when you forgot them,"

"No doubt I was, but that doesn't mean I was right,"

"It means exactly that you were right,"

His face struggled again. "We'll have to agree to disagree about that one,"

"Right. Well," Tonks said awkwardly. They'd only been back together a couple of weeks but already she'd forgotten how horrible it was to be awkward around him.

"Yes,"

Remus withdrew his arm from round her shoulders and picked up the copy of  _The House of Mirth_ he'd left of the coffee table. Tonks knew that it was a good thing that he wasn't storming off to bed, but it didn't feel like a victory. She watched him for a few seconds, heart thudding, but it seemed that he'd said what he wanted to and wasn't going to look up again. He was frustratingly good at ending arguments. Tonks wanted to snuggle up to him, but he was sitting on the armchair, and moreover his posture was stiff and angular. It was clear that he didn't want to be touched. Tonks fished a music magazine from her bag and sat down on the sofa. They spent the rest of the evening reading in silence- she couldn't tell if Remus was concentrating on his reading as ineffectually as she was on hers. When he eventually did go to bed, he gave her an awkward pat on the arm and his, "Goodnight" was cursory.

"Night," Tonks murmured, "I'll be there in a little while,"

She'd slept on the sofa last night too, so she hoped that Remus got the hint of  _I am coming back to_ bed  _tonight._

"Alright," he replied non-committally.

She wanted to kiss him goodnight but she knew it'd make things worse, and when Tonks went to bed half an hour later she suspected that Remus was only pretending to be sleeping.

* * *

In the morning he really  _was_ asleep, like he usually was at this time. Before Tonks left for work she knelt down next to him, ran a finger down his jaw and raked a hand softly through his hair.

"Come back to me. Come back and be happy," she murmured, kissing his forehead. They'd been so happy before this full moon. She wasn't letting them go back to how things had been a few weeks ago, when he was cold and frightened and convinced that he knew better than her and that them being together would ruin everything.

At the Ministry things were typically hectic, with Proudfoot barking out orders and Glossop fretting about departmental security. Everyone was in overdrive after what had happened to Dumbledore. There was an Order meeting tonight, the first since their wedding. Being one of the only people at work who knew what had really happened to Dumbledore was exhausting, so Tonks was looking forward to seeing the rest of the Order. At work she was left with administrating emergency safeguarding measures, one of the boring jobs, but she could overhear Glossop and Dawlish speculating about Dumbledore and- even worse- Harry. None of this secrecy had seemed so stressful when they'd been planning the wedding, and those four days after when she'd been bursting with joy. Now it felt exhausting and tense, and the world seemed much more threatening and difficult to handle. It was the sort of thing she would have talked to Remus about, except it partly was Remus who was  _causing_ her to feel this hassled in the first place. Her period was late from all this stress. Kingsley was out of the office today- even though they didn't speak much at work, she could have done with his reassuring presence.

By the time Tonks got home, she'd worked herself up into treading on eggshells, and it transpired that Remus was too. He was dressed for the first time since Sunday and he said hello when she stepped out of the fire. That was a start, but his tone and posture were tense and he didn't stand up to kiss her.

"Wotcher,"

"Hello. Good day at work?" he asked. He still looked clammy, but not as ill as he'd seemed for the last few days. Tonks hoped that that meant the worst was over.

"Alright. Busy," she said cagily,

Before she could say anything else. Remus snapped his book shut and announced, "The meeting is tonight,"

"Yeah,"

"Eight o'clock at the Burrow,"

Sometimes it took him flipping ages to get to his point. "What about it?"

"Well, it's the first time we'll have seen everybody since the wedding,"

" _Our_  wedding," Tonks pointed out. She didn't like him going into Professor mode like this.

"Yes," Remus conceded, "Our wedding. Our friends will want to see us happy. Let's tell them yes we are, it was a nice wedding and thanks for all their cards, and now let's get on with organising moving Harry,"

Oh, so he was ignoring the argument too. Bypassing what happened last night and launching straight into playing happy families in front of their friends.

"What about you?" Tonks asked impatiently.

"What about me?"

"If our friends want to see us happy, will you be  _pretending_ or will you actually be happy?"

For a moment, Remus looked befuddled. Then he looked thoughtful. Then he looked at his knees and murmured, "You make me very happy,"

"Are you sure? Because I think we established that you weren't happy last night,"

"No. Neither were you,"

"Because  _you_ weren't. Because you were weird and distant and like you were before we got engaged,"

"Mmm,"

"Well?"

He took a breath then said heavily, "I told you last night that I'm not going to pretend to you that I'm happy when I'm not. I can lie about it in front of other people. But I won't lie to you,"

God, he was sweet. He wasn't even trying to be; he was telling the truth. He was infuriating but he was also a total angel, and she was the only person who could talk him out of his self-destructiveness. She knew he needed her.

"If I say something will you say it back?" Tonks asked quietly.

Remus considered. "Alright,"

"Everything is going to be fine,"

When he looked up there was the ghost of a smirk on his face. "I thought you were going to say 'I love you',"

"Everything's going to be fine," she repeated.

The smirk flickered into a smile. It was faint, but it was there. "Everything's going to be fine," he echoed.

Tonks wanted to grab his collar and yank him in for a snog, but it was too early for that. Sometimes meeting Remus halfway meant meeting him an inch in front of where he was standing.

Instead she leaned over, pecked his cheek and told him, "Great. Something we finally agree on,"

"Only because you made me say it," he pointed out. Tonks hoped that his pout was mocking not genuine.

"Hey, beggars can't be choosers".

* * *

At The Burrow they were embraced and hand-shook and congratulated. Hagrid pulled them both into a bone-crushing hug, Kingsley clapped Remus proudly on the back, and Molly beamed and managed not to cry. Ron looked bamboozled, the twins chorused, "You didn't invite us to the party?" and Moody looked uncharacteristically discombobulated before settling on shaking Tonks' hand and saying, "I suppose you could have done worse".

"Thanks, Mad-Eye. I wish you could have been there,"

"Busy here," he growled, which Tonks reckoned was Moody code for  _I wouldn't have wanted to come anyway, you soppy sod._

Ginny came hurtling down the stairs, flung herself at Tonks and squealed, "Congratulations!"

"Thank, Gin,"

Ginny pressed a kiss to her cheek and demanded, "How was it? Was everything okay?"

"It was fine. It was a really nice day,"

"Good," said Ginny fervently.

"Ginny, what did I say about being allowed in the meeting," crowed Molly's voice.

"I've been here for five seconds!" Ginny protested. She pulled a face, let go of Tonks and elbowed her way across to Remus, who was fending interrogation from George and Hermione. Hestia and Dogbreath came over to ask about the wedding. Recounting the story, Tonks realised that Saturday the 12th of July felt like a long time ago now.

"Alright, settle down, everybody," said Kingsley after a few minutes of chatter. The hubbub died down apart from the twins.

"So when he was properly pissed-" one of them was explaining to Remus.

"We're talking absolutely blind drunk-" the other corroborated.

"He'd tap the bride on the shoulder-"

"Yank up his robes-"

"And give her a bunch of flowers pulled straight from his-"

"Fred, George, that's  _enough,"_ hissed Molly, "Ginny, back upstairs,"

Ginny left without complaint, but shut the door slightly harder than was necessary. Tonks smirked.

"Tell you later," the first twin told Remus with a wink.

"Where's Tonks? Go round and sit with your wife," demanded the second twin, pushing Remus over to her. He looked uncomfortable inamongst all the fuss, and his awkwardness increased when Kingsley stood up, raising his glass. Thankfully, Kingsley knew Remus well enough to understand how embarrassed he'd be by all this and kept his toast brief.

"Welcome, everybody. If I may start by saying that firstly we all offer our congratulations to our good friends Remus and Tonks, who as you all know were married last week. We wish you both the utmost happiness," he said, "I'd like to raise a toast,"

She could see Remus looking around twitchily as everybody stood up, raised their glasses and echoed, "To Remus and Tonks,"

Tonks snaked an arm around her husband's waist and beamed round at their friends (Molly had succumbed to tears). She pretended to be as elated and thrilled as she had been those first few days, before this marriage had become as complicated and argumentative as the months which had preceded it. Why hadn't she seen that coming? She'd been naive to think that marriage could fix him. But she so desperately  _wanted_ him to be fixed. Remus didn't deserve to be so tortured and guilt-ridden and to think so lowly of himself. The rings and the ceremony didn't matter-  _she_ could fix him; she knew she could. With enough love and care and protection, he wouldn't see himself as a monster. Tonks promised herself that she'd do it. If it took the rest of her life, she would make him better.

Now, thankfully, the fussing is over and everybody is sat round the table in the midst of discussions. It's odd to see Ron and Fleur here as members of the Order (Hermione being here isn't remotely weird; she's always seemed about thirty-five). Mad-Eye is in charge, explaining where Harry's relatives will be taken to before the rest of the Order come for Harry.

"Lock 'em in the shed," Ron mutters audibly to Bill, who doesn't seem to be listening to him.

Tonks feels a hand on her wrist. She flicks her eyes sideways. Remus' face belies nothing, but his hand slips down her wrist and he links his fingers with hers. After the tension of the last few days he suddenly wants to hold her hand under the table, like they did back at Grimmauld Place all that time ago. Does this mean he's alright?  _She_  kissed _him_  earlier, but now it's Remus whose reaching for her. Does this mean they're back to how things were before the full moon?

She squeezes his hand. His fingers are always cold. Her marvellous, perplexing, exhausting husband.

No, married life has not turned out how Tonks anticipated.


	49. The Others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set after Lupin returns from Greyback's werewolf camp, which I've dated as about April of Half-Blood Prince. This chapter was a tricky one to get right. I hope you like it.

Mad-Eye Moody watched the cloaked figure leave the house, lock the door and start walking up the street. The figure was small and hooded, and even with his bad leg Moody fancied his chances in a fight.

"Stupefy!" he yelled aloud, blasting the curse at the other person.

The figure swung round, ducked, and cried, "Imepedimentia!"

"Congfringo," growled Moody, and the wall behind his opponent blasted apart.

The figure didn't say anything, but slashed their wand at Mad-Eye, making a firey arrow shoot out of the tip.

Mad-Eye dodged and sent a non-verbal disarmament spell back. The other duellist swore loudly and cast a body-bind curse Mad-Eye's way.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Locomotor Mortis!"

"Tarantallegra!"

"Titillando!" Mad-Eye called, but the hooded figure must have cast a non-verbal jinx back, because Moody felt the gravel beneath his feet slip suddenly away. He stumbled, and before he could get up, his opponent had pounced, knocked him to the floor and grabbed him by the throat.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Tell me who you are and take  _off_ Mad-Eye's eye!"

* * *

The safehouse flat was in a sleek, modern apartment block a couple of miles outside of Exeter. Hestia apparated to the top of the stairs and walked down the corridor towards Flat 6A. She wasn't sure if the flat had a doorbell, so she knocked on the heavy wooden door. It opened a few seconds later, to reveal a gaunt and tired-looking man wearing a thick burgundy jumper.

"Oh, hello Hestia," he said, sounding surprised.

"Hi, Remus,"

"What was I wearing the last time you saw me?"

Hestia thought for a few moments, picturing Remus in the outfit he'd been wearing on Tuesday. "Black jeans, a blue jumper and a knitted scarf," she recited, in the formal tone most people used when answering security questions, "What did I tell you was a good remedy for a sore throat?"

"Alpepper ale,"

"Ah, so it is you," she said, leaning in to give him a hug and a peck on the cheek. Molly said that Remus would appreciate physical contact these days after months in the aggressive colony. Molly and Kingsley helped him move in a few days ago, and Hestia had popped over later that evening to see how he'd been getting on. Remus wasn't a moaner and had repeatedly insisted he was absolutely fine, although he looked blatantly ragged and frail. Today he seemed healthier, although as Hestia hugged him she noticed how scrawny his shoulders felt.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Remus asked, breaking away from her and leading her into the flat.

"I thought I'd come with you to the meeting tonight," Hestia said. She closed the door behind her and cast the usual security spells on it.

Remus glanced around at her. "That's very kind," he said, slightly more sharply than his usual tone.

Hestia knew why that was, and changed the subject. "How are you getting on?"

"Yes, fine. I've been sleeping lots," Remus confessed sheepishly.

"Good for you, you must be exhausted". He hadn't told Hestia much about the werewolf mission but there was no doubt that it was tough. Brutal, perhaps. Remus deserved a good sleep.

"A bit. Molly's been sending fridgefuls of food to keep me going," he explained, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Please,"

The flat was open-plan, and Remus gestured for Hestia to sit down on one of the L-shaped sofas. It was black, fitting in with the rest of the monochrome flat.

"Or hot chocolate? Another Molly Weasley gift," said Remus, holding up a tin in the kitchen. Hestia noted that his hand was still bandaged.

"She's excelled herself. Tea's fine, ta,"

"She has," Remus agreed, flicking on the kettle with his wand. Then he added thoughtfully, "I am very lucky to have such good friends,"

They'd be friends in school, vaguely. Hestia was four years younger but she'd been in the choir with Remus and they'd once shared a detention clearing out the transfiguration stock room.

"Oh, hello. You're Hestia, aren't you?" teenage Remus had asked. She'd been a bit intimidated- after all, he was a sixth-year, and she'd only just started second. She nodded.

"Don't worry about this, we'll do all the lifting," he reassured her.

"Okay,"

"So, what are things like over in Ravenclaw?" he'd asked, and had spent ten minutes encouraging Hestia to talk about her friends and teachers and the gossip from up in Ravenclaw Tower.

James Potter had been there too- Hestia remembers a cheerful, bossy lad who sounded like he knew everything about pincushions. He'd nicknamed Hestia "Hortensia" and ribbed her about it throughout the detention. Remus rolled his eyes at James and assured Hestia that James was only joking. He was caring like that, although James groaned that Remus was being a killjoy and Hestia didn't mind the teasing (which was true). Everybody knew James Potter made stupid jokes, and the fact that he was t _alking_ to Hestia was exciting. Remus had always said hello to Hestia in the corridor because he knew her from choir practice (he was shyer in choir practice without his gang around him) and after the detention James Potter would chirp, "Hi, Hortensia!" at her. That was even more of a thrill, and although Hestia's friends were impressed that she was on first-name terms with James Potter, Hestia always remembered that it was Remus who'd got to know her first.

Back in the flat, Remus poured tea for her and a hot chocolate for himself, then sat down on the edge of the sofa to chat to her. He was still behind on Order news, and he was very interested in Ron Weasley's poisoning. The boy was out of hospital, although Molly and Arthur were busy tonight and wouldn't be attending the meeting.

"But Bill and the twins are coming," Hestia explained.

"They're attending regularly, then?" Remus asked.

"Most of the time, unless they're busy with the shop. It's going really well,"

"Yes, they were thrilled to tell me about it over Christmas. Have you been?"

"I've walked past it but I haven't popped in," Hestia explained.

"I did over the Summer and it was very impressive. I shouldn't sound so surprised about that," he chuckled.

"Molly and Arthur are certainly surprised,"

"Between you and I, Hestia, I don't think Molly gives those boys enough credit,"

Hestia shrugged. Sometimes Weasley talk dominated Order conversations and it got tedious. She changed the subject again, "Have you found anything fun to do in Exeter yet?"

* * *

"Take his eye off!  _Take it off!_ Where did you get his eye?!" the figure demanded, shoving their knee into Mad-Eye's chest.

"This eye belongs to Alastor Moody, former head of the Ministry of Magic Auror office-"

" _I know!_  Where did you get it?"

"-who you owe seven Firewhiskies and a gobstopper,"

"What?"

"Your name is Nymphadora Tonks, daughter of Ted Tonks and Andromeda Black. You met me, Alastor Moody, in the Auror corridor on the fifth of September five years ago. The first words you said to me were, ' _No, it's a Hungarian redbeard'_ ,"

The hand on Mad-Eye's throat loosened.

"What? It's actually you?" gasped Tonks, then jammed her knee further into him, "Prove it. What's elementary wand safety lesson number one,"

"Never hold your wand in your teeth," Mad-Eye recited. It was his own rule, which Tonks frequently ignored.

"What's the name of my pet rat?"

"You didn't have a rat. You had a pet toad called Prudence. Died on your birthday in your sixth year,"

Tonks exhaled. "Merlin, Mad-Eye, what are you playing at?" she said, removing her knee from his chest and holding out a hand to help him up. Mad-Eye took it and let her pull him to his feet, then led the way down the dim street.

"Testing you. That was a poor effort, I've told you before than a slipping jinx is a bad idea," he reprimanded.

"I got you on the floor," she protested, "I had my hand on your throat,"

"I've told you before, that's a vulnerable position if you allow the other party to apparate behind you,"

"Fine. Anyway, aren't we meant to be going to the Order meeting? That's where I was heading,"

"I'm picking you up,"

" _Why?"_  Tonks scoffed.

Mad-Eye shot a sideways glance at her and said flatly, "Lupin's home,"

Tonks stopped dead. "What?" she whispered.

"I told you Dumbledore was considering taking him out of there. He's been back a few days. He'll be there tonight,"

"Oh my God.  _Oh_ my  _God,"_  she breathed.

Mad-Eye had expected this, and he didn't have time for it. "We need to get going," he told her, continuing down the cobbles towards the station.

"Have you seen him?" Tonks called. Mad-Eye kept walking- it was best to try and keep Tonks' dramatics about this as low-level as possible.

"Mad-Eye. Have you seen him?" she repeated seriously.

"No," he called over his shoulder, "Let's move,"

"Oh my God," she murmured again. Moody didn't like this version of her. He didn't like who she'd been more most of this past year. The eighteen-year-old who had interrupted his conversation to answer back about Hungarian redbeards had faded. Mad-Eye wasn't sentimental about her growing up- he wasn't her father for goodness sake- but he missed her jokes and her bubbliness more than he'd care to admit. Tonks still liked to wind him up and she laughed sometimes, but not like she used to. Moody hoped that the old Tonks wasn't gone forever. On the other hand, from all Mad-Eye had heard (Mad-Eye had heard everything), she'd done well in her post up here. Kept her head and got on with things. Mopey and miserable she may have been, but she'd done her job well, and managed not to murder Dawlish, which Moody knew must have been a challenge for her.

He heard Tonks' footsteps run to catch up with him, and glanced over his shoulder to call, "Hurry up and do it silently,"

He much preferred barking out orders to her than listening to her fret about Lupin. Moody turned his face ahead again, but spun his eye around to watch Tonks creep up behind him. He couldn't hear her move.

"Good," he grunted, when Tonks was walking beside him again.

She didn't bother to snark about him testing her, and demanded, "Does he know I'm coming?"

"Believe so,"

Tonks groaned. After a pause she added, " _Shit._  He hasn't seen me since my hair changed,"

"I doubt he's looking his best," Mad-Eye muttered. He was only being dry, but Tonks jumped, alarmed.

"What do you mean? Is he okay? Have you heard something?"

She'd always fired questions at him, and calmness had ever been her strong suit, but a few times when Mad-Eye had mentioned Lupin this last year she'd jumped out of her skin like this. Moody hated that- he thought he'd taught her better.

"No. But he's been living with werewolves for eight months," Mad-Eye pointed out, hoping that his blunt tone would stop Tonks being so shrill.

She winced. "I feel like I'm about to explode,"

"You're not," Mad-Eye growled.

"I know. I'm sorry, I know you hate all this," she grimaced. It was true. He did. Moody hadn't taken her on to have to deal with her whingeing all year about her love life. He couldn't have cared less about who she was seeing, until that day last year when she'd taken him aside in his office and announced that she was going out with Remus Lupin. She'd begged him not to tell anybody (as if Mad-Eye would have anybody to tell?) but there was no mistaking how thrilled she was. Moody knew that it would end in tears. He'd considered having a word with Lupin, but realised that he wouldn't know what to say. He'd resolved to stay out of it, which hadn't been difficult as the pair of them had kept their relationships quiet. Well, Lupin had kept it quiet- clearly Tonks had gone along with him, and now he was gone she was being even more dramatic about the end of their romance than she was about most things.

When Moody had seen her over Christmas he'd snapped at her to stop moping and get a grip. Tonks' face had crumpled and she'd choked out that it wasn't only that she missed Lupin, but she was scared for him, and she hadn't heard anything, and she kept expecting bad news, but bad news was better than not hearing anything at all. Mad-Eye had seen her cry plenty of times before, and usually she batted her tears away and muttered to herself to stop being a wimp. At Christmas though, Tonks had pushed her face into her knees and whimpered shaking. Moody hadn't had a clue what to do. He'd wanted to snarl at Tonks to shut up- but she was his friend as well as his protégée, and he wasn't sure if they would be friends much longer if he snapped at her that she was being pathetic. It had turned out this year that he didn't know much about her at all. Or perhaps he had, but she'd changed and he wasn't used to this new version. Mad-Eye didn't  _want_ to get used to this new version. At Christmas, he'd waited uncomfortably until she stopped crying, then tried to explain that no news was good news.

"Bollocks. No news could mean they've hurt him and haven't bothered to tell us," Tonks choked out.

"Yes. It might," Mad-Eye agreed. Tonks must have clocked that he didn't know what to say, because she stood up, wiped her face on her sleeve, and put the kettle on.

Trudging through Hogsmeade with her now, Mad-Eye thought wryly that he'd pay Lupin fifty galleons to sort this damn business out. Clearly Lupin had tried to avoid her- Moody would have guessed that that was a good idea, but it had had the opposite effect. This was precisely why Mad-Eye didn't like dealing with emotions; they were unpredictable and irrational. In an attack or a bodyguard unit there were rules and plans and methods for dealing with problems. There was none of that when it came to relationships.

As they neared the station, the usual apparation point, Tonks twisted a hairband off her wrist and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

"Is Snape coming tonight?" she asked.

"No," Mad-Eye confirmed. The potions master was busy doing something for Dumbledore.

"Thank Merlin," Tonks breathed. Mad-Eye suspected that she wanted him to ask why she was relieved about Snape's absence, so he didn't say anything.

Tonks took the hint, because she zipped up her purple dragonskin jacket and squared her shoulders the way Mad-Eye had taught her to do before a duel.

"Right. Right," she murmured. She pulled her gloves (the silly fingerless ones Moody had never understood why she wore) up her wrist and took her wand out of her pocket. "Let's go".

* * *

"I was thinking of getting there exactly on time. Not early I mean," says Remus lightly. Hestia shot him a glance. He was looking intently into his tea cup.

"Yes. That's a good idea," she agreed quietly.

They'd made more small-talk- Remus knew that Slughorn was at Hogwarts again and Snape was now teaching Defence, but he was behind on the specifics of it all. Hestia filled him in on Dumbledore's mysterious injury and had no idea how to answer when he asked what Mundungus had been up to recently. Remus was patient with Mundungus, Hestia remembered. He was soft like that. They chatted about the Quidditch season even though neither were particularly big fans, and about what Dolores Umbridge was doing now ("I wish many unfortunate things on her," said Remus mildly). He'd always had a good memory for people's family and friends- in an attentive, thoughtful way rather than a nosey one. He asked Hestia about how her parents were doing and if Camille had passed her accountancy exams yet. Hestia wondered if talking about her girlfriend was a bit close to the bone, but since Remus had brought it up she replied that Camille's exams were in September but she'd started revising for them already. When the kitchen clock beeped eight ("Apologies, I can't seem to stop it doing that every hour," Remus explained), they agreed that it was time to leave for the meeting. It had been a warm day, but Remus pulled his patched overcoat on, clarifying awkwardly that he felt the cold more these days.

"Well, it  _did_  rain a few days ago," Hestia said, to excuse him.

"Hmm, yes," Remus nodded. Then he added solemnly, "I'm very grateful for you offering to do this tonight,"

He didn't meet her eyes but from his tone Hestia knew what he meant. She knew he knew the real reason she had come here today: Tonks. Remus hadn't seen her for nearly a year and Hestia knew he must be nervous about it. Hestia didn't know what happened between the two of them- she can't remember how she found out, and she never saw them do anything remotely coupley- but she knew that it had ended last Summer, badly. She was sure that Remus was dreading seeing Tonks again, and the state that Tonks was in would make it worse. She'd been so miserable since Remus left that she couldn't change her hair. She must have been  _really_  into him to be that floored by their breakup, which surprised Hestia because Remus didn't seem anything like Tonks' type. He was sweet and clever, he was a lovely person, but he was shabby and serious. Oh, and a werewolf. Even if Hestia was into blokes, she couldn't imagine Remus being remotely fanciable- especially to Tonks, who was about fifteen years younger and all colours and questions and screamy music blaring from the kitchen radio. She wasn't like Remus at all.

Tonks was alright to talk to, and Hestia knew that she must be clever to have become an Auror, but she didn't shut up and was always showing off about her powers. Remus was a very patient person when he  _needed_ to be, but Hestia wasn't sure why he  _chose_ to date somebody he had to be patient with. But he was a bloke and she was a much younger girl, so perhaps he could put up with her annoyingness if it meant he got a shag out of it. Straight guys were all the same.

* * *

They'd apparated to Grimmauld, said hello to everybody (well, Tonks had. Mad-Eye preferred a general grunt of greeting to whoever was in the room) and sat down. The Weasleys had been showing off as usual and Podmore was talking loudly over them. McGonagall had arrived, dragging a whingeing Fletcher with her, and Kingsley had followed. Everybody was here now apart from Lupin and Jones. It wasn't like Jones not to be early, which set Mad-Eye on guard. He watched Tonks check her watch and the wall clock over and over, and felt her jiggle the table next to him with her knees. That had got so irritating that he'd grabbed her kneecap with his hand to make her stop.

"Sorry," she'd murmured, "Nervous,"

"Lupin's coming tonight, isn't he?" asked Bill loudly, above the hubbub or pre-meeting chatter. At the mention of the name, Tonks' head whipped round.

"Yes, I believe he is," answered McGonagall, "He arrived home-"

And then the kitchen door opened, and Lupin and Jones walked in. Mad-Eye felt Tonks tense beside him.

"Prof!" called two voices simultaneously, and the Weasley twins bounded over to Lupin to shake his hand and slap him on the back.

Lupin raised a hand faux-jovially through the bundle of limbs and ginger hair. "Hello, everyone,"

He looked terrible. His hair, which Tonks had described upon meeting him as "brown with patches of grey" was now almost entirely grey. His face was grey too. Mad-Eye had visited Azkaban a few times, and he'd seen the same sallow, lost look on Lupin's face on the expression of some of the prisoners there. He'd lost so much weight that his clothes hung on him. There were patches of scabs down one side of Lupin's face, and the hand that was raised in greeting had a bandage across the knuckles.

Mad-Eye's eye spun over to Tonks. She was staring at Lupin with her mouth slightly open. He could see the pulse throbbing in her neck and, for the first time in all this, Mad-Eye felt sincere sympathy for her. Poor girl hadn't wanted this to happen. It wasn't  _her_  fault that he was a werewolf. She was so young- Mad-Eye could barely remember what it was like to be her age. There was an intensity to youth (and Merlin knew there had always been an intensity to her), when emotions felt stronger and more overwhelming. Those feelings were an inconvenience which Mad-Eye had shut down in himself long ago. But as he watched Tonks gaze at Lupin, Mad-Eye hoped that she wouldn't block out emotions like he had.

Beside them, Podmore got to his feet and leaned over to Lupin. "Remus, good to see you," he blustered, leaning over to shake hands.

"Hello, Poddy," said Lupin.

Mad-Eye felt rather than saw Tonks hunch forward, but thankfully she didn't stand up. Lupin waved a hand in their direction but didn't look directly at either of them. Then Jones, who had walked in behind him and was looking nervous, shepherded him towards Bill and McGonagall on the other side of the table.

"Hi," murmured Tonks, as Lupin turned away.

* * *

Hestia breathed a sigh of relief once the meeting started. Surely the worst was over now. Remus' entrance had gone alright- thank Merlin for those Weasley boys (she had never expected to think that). Diggle, who was chairing the meeting, had done a brief "Welcome back Remus and thank you for your work," spiel, but after that Remus hadn't garnered too much attention, which Hestia knew he would be grateful for. Hestia and Remus were sitting down now at the end of the table, adjacent to Tonks, whom Mad-Eye appeared to be babysitting. Tonks was making the occasional note, but Hestia could see her look up every few seconds to look at Remus. She wasn't attempting to be subtle about it, but the girl had never been subtle. At first Hestia had thought that Tonks looked like a lovesick teenager, unable to keep her eyes off him. But she'd met Tonks' eyes a moment ago, and there was such sadness in them that Hestia couldn't help but feel sympathetic.

Poddy was talking now, and Remus was scribbling down everything he was saying. Thankfully, Remus was usually a thorough transcriber of meetings, so the fact that he was doing so now didn't make him look like he was avoiding something.

* * *

"Well, I suppose that's the meeting adjourned," declared Diggle, "Thank you for coming, everybody,"

Diggle was a hopeless chair. He was always indecisive about opening the meeting, giving instructions, and adjourning at the end. Mad-Eye expected Diggle to suddenly remember something he had to add, before he could say anything Fletcher leapt to his feet.

"Seein' a man about a cat," he explained, bundling together the usual mass of rags he dragged with him, and loping towards the door.

Fletcher's departure thankfully set everybody else up to leave, so Diggle was shut up. He wouldn't chair again for a few weeks, which Moody was relieved about. Podmore and Kingsley started packing away their notes, and Mad-Eye saw Jones catch Lupin's eye and flick her head towards the door. He wasn't sure how Jones was involved in all this and he didn't much care, but if she was getting Lupin out of the room quicker, good for her. Jones put her hand on Lupin's arm. He smiled at her, gesturing for the two of them to leave with Podmore and Kingsley. Tonks was leaning over the table towards them, staring at Lupin. Mad-Eye put his hand on her kneecap again and was about to say something to distract her, when suddenly everything went black.

* * *

Hestia was touching Remus' coat sleeve, and instinctively clung onto it when the light disappeared. A male voice yelped, and another voice told them to shut up.

"Whose there?" asked Kingsley's voice.

"Protegro!" shouted Moody's familiar growl, "Revalio!"

"Oops. Sorry folks, that's one of our Decoy detonators," said one of the twins' voices, cutting through the hubbub, "Must have fallen out of my pocket,"

" _Fred,"_ groaned Poddy.

"I'm George. But yeah, it was Freddy's fault,"

There was a collective huff and reprimanding mutters from other voices. Hestia breathed a sigh of relief that it was just a stupid Weasley prank and nothing more serious.

"Lumos," snarled Mad-Eye, and his wand lit up his face. Hestia noticed that Tonks wasn't standing beside him. At the same moment she felt a figure dash past her and fling itself at Remus. Kingsley's wand lit up and Hestia saw that the figure was a female, with lank brown hair. Tonks. She was hugging Remus tightly, pinning his arms to his sides and burrowing her face into his jumper. Remus looked shocked for a moment while he registered what was happening, then glanced from side to side, bewildered and panicked.

"Now, what's-" began Poddy, but Kingsley elbowed him in the ribs. He looked back at Hestia, who looked back at Poddy, who looked at Remus, who looked at the floor. Tonks wasn't showing any signs of letting him go. Hestia had thought that she'd managed to avoid a scene like this, but everything had happened so fast and abruptly in the confusion of the blackout. She wasn't sure if she should say something to Remus, or Tonks, or leave Kingsley to intervene. He knew them both better than she did.

There was a gruff clearing of a throat and the clacking of a peg-leg. Mad-Eye was walking round the side of the table towards them.

"Tonks," he said ordered, "We're going,"

Nobody said anything, but Hestia almost breathed a sigh of relief- somebody had taken charge.

"We're leaving  _now,"_  barked Mad-Eye, in a much harsher voice. Hestia almost winced at the impatience in his tone.

Tonks peeled her face away from Remus' chest and didn't look at him as she glanced over to Moody.

"But I-"

"I think you need to go," Remus echoed quietly.

Tonks looked up into his face. Remus looked down at his shoes. Hestia wished that this awful moment would be over.

"Oh. Okay, I…I just wanted…" Tonks murmured. She paused for a moment, then let go of Remus as quickly as if he were on fire. Immediately, Remus backed away, stumbling into Kingsley as he did. Mad-Eye put his hand on Tonks' shoulder.

"Get a move on," he commanded. He glanced at Hestia, who couldn't read the expression in his remaining eye. It was always difficult to know what Mad-Eye was thinking, and he seemed to be being both cross and kind to Tonks at the moment. But the two of them were friends- everybody knew he wanted Tonks to take over his old job- so he was probably the best person for her to be with now. Tonks needed to be with  _anybody_ apart from Remus, who must be mortified by all this.

Moody muttered a goodbye to Kingsley, and steered Tonks out of the door.

* * *

He knew she was going to cry. She was more predictable than she liked to think. Once they were out of the house, Mad-Eye fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Tonks, and she wiped her face with it while they walked back along Grimmauld Place towards the main road. After being strangely silent throughout the meeting, now she had started talking and seemed unable to shut up.

"I can't believe I just did that," she was gabbling, "Do you think he hates me now? Oh my God, Mad-Eye-"

"He doesn't hate you,"

"Do you think? I don't know. Why did I do that? That was so stupid, I just…he looked so  _ill,_ didn't he, and sad, and- I missed him so much, I haven't slept properly for months-"

"You can make a sleeping draught for that," Mad-Eye pointed out, knowing she wasn't listening.

"- And he was there and I wanted…he looked…fuck!" Tonks growled, kicking at the air. Unsatisfied with that (clearly she was in a violent mood tonight, Moody thought wearily), she aimed a punch into the darkness, then another kick, then groaned, half-anger and half-sob. Mad-Eye kept walking. He didn't want to look at her when she was like this.

Tonks was crying again by the time she caught up. "I- I love him so much, Mad-Eye. You saw him, you know he needs looking after, he needs someone to protect him, and-" she rubbed her tears away with a fist, "He really hates himself sometimes, he needs to be loved. I love him. I just want to love him".

She looked up at Mad-Eye, a tear dribbling down onto her lip. "Why can't I just love him?".

* * *

God bless Bill Weasley. He'd jumped in as Tonks and Mad-Eye left, suddenly remembering that he had to ask Kingsley and Remus a very important question about where the best bookshop on Knockturn Alley was. Diggle overheard and came over to join in, and the conversation drifted on towards Order news and events Remus needed to be updated on, and they just about got away with ignoring the scene which had just taken place.

Eventually, Remus announced tiredly, "It's been nice talking, everyone, but I should get going now,"

"Oh yeah, of course. You must be knackered," said Bill quickly, "I'd better get Newt and Toad home,"

The twins, who'd been halfway across the room and seemingly out of earshot, glanced round.

"Oi," said one.

"We heard that," said the other.

"And it's Rat and Toad, thanks very much,"

" _And_ you don't need to get us home. We're eighteen now,"

"Thought you were taking us for a Muggle pint,"

"Drinks are on Bill!"

Bill huffed and muttered, "Get a move on then,"

"Yes sir," said one of the twins. They saluted identically and marched over to the door in synchronisation. Bill prodded them out of the door and leaned into Hestia's ear as he passed.

"Gonna give them a hiding about that trick with the darkness powder," he muttered.

The Weasleys left, and Remus reached down to pull on his patched overcoat. Now the tension of what had happened had been as diffused as it could probably get, he seemed to want to leave quickly again. Remus could be quite a solitary person, and the meeting had probably worn him out, although Hestia wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to be alone.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she murmured.

He stopped with an arm halfway down his coat sleeve. "That's very kind, but I'm going to head to bed, actually,"

"Okay. Goodnight then,"

"Night, Hestia" he paused then said, "Thank you very much,"

He stepped forward and hugged her tightly (again, she felt the scrawniness in his upper body. She didn't want to think about food at the werewolf pack).

"Don't mention it," Hestia mumbled over his shoulder.

Remus let go and straightened his jacket.

"See you next Friday, probably,"

"Yes, if not before,"

"Alright. Say hello to Camille from me. Bye," Remus said, giving her a wan half-smile before turning around to shake Kingsley's hand and bid him goodnight too. When he left through the doorway, Hestia watched him go. She hoped that he'd be alright tonight. This evening must have been tiring for him, even discounting Tonks. Hestia figured that she should leave too now. She waved to the others, walked out of the room and through the hallway, opened the front door and stepped down the front steps to the street. Remus had already disapparated, although Hestia caught a glimpse of the Weasleys chasing after each other and laughing as they neared the corner. That family had always been good at compartmentalising.

With a sigh, Hestia apparated home. She landed in the living room, where Camille was hunched over her desk, scratching her chin with a pen.

"Hi," she said, without looking up. It was best not to disturb Camille when she was in revision mode. After ten years working in something Muggles called PR, Hestia's girlfriend was retraining to be an accountant. As Hestia had explained to Remus, even though Camille's exams were in a few months' time she'd started the revision process early.

"Hi," said Hestia, leaning down to kiss Camille's head.

Her girlfriend dropped her pen onto her textbook, leaned back and asked, "How was your meeting?"

"Fine. The boy who was poisoned's oldest brother was there- he says he's doing a lot better". Camille, who was often aghast about how dangerous Hogwarts sounded, had been alarmed when Hestia told her what had happened to Ron.

"That's a relief,"

"You'd like the oldest brother actually, he works for a bank,"

"I remember. He's the punky guy, isn't he? Were his bank exams as extensive as mine?"

"Probably not. Curse-breaking isn't the same as chartered accountancy". Being in a relationship with a Muggle woman was a welcome break from the intensity of Order things and the War. Some people might see it as confusing, but for Hestia, living two lives was a relief. Tonks had proved tonight now complicated and uncomfortable dating somebody in the Order could be. Hestia remembered the look on Tonks' face as Mad-Eye had led her away. She'd looked so lost, bamboozled and hurt.

"What?" Camille asked, "You're looking at me,"

"Sorry. Just thinking about something,"

"Can you tell me about it?". Hestia's girlfriend was patient with all the secrecy involved in dating a witch, especially a witch in a secret resistance society.

"Sort of. It's a love story gone wrong,"

"Classic," Camille nodded, "The straights?"

"The straights," Hestia confirmed. Plenty of people they knew had experienced bad break-ups, but the werewolf thing made Remus and Tonks' situation much more complicated.

"Do you think they'll work it out?"

Hestia looked over at her girlfriend. Camille had pushed her glasses up to her forehead and tied her frizzy hair up with a pencil.

"I don't know".

* * *

Gingerly, Mad-Eye put his hand on Tonks' back. They'd made it to a bench, where she was sniffing and shaking and he was wondering what else he could do or say to help her, and why it had fallen to _him_  to help her at all.

"This is  _worse_ than not having seem him all year," Tonks groaned, "How is this  _worse?"_

She was leaning forward and pinching the bridge of her nose as if she was about to be sick.

"Not worse. Now you don't have to worry," Moody pointed out.

It turned out that was the wrong thing to say. " _How can I not worry about him?"_ Tonks wailed, almost screeching.

Mad-Eye resisted the urge to snap that for Merlin's sake, what did she expect him to do. Irritably, he reached for his hip-flask- then stopped as it gave him an idea.

"Let's go for a drink,"

"I'm supposed to be back in Hogsmeade," Tonks mumbled, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve again.

"Good answer. You've still got your priorities in order," Moody nodded approvingly, "I'll owl Proudfoot and tell her I need you for something in the office,"

Tonks moved her arm away from her face and looked up at him. "For what?"

"What do you care?" Mad-Eye growled, "I'll tell her it's urgent,"

Even though Moody wasn't an active Auror any longer, the department made allowances. He'd never got on particularly well with Thetis Proudfoot, but he knew that she wouldn't argue with him if he said he needed Tonks.

Mad-Eye couldn't help her with this Lupin nonsense, but the least he could do was buy her a drink. He stood up and held out a hand. Tonks looked at it, sighed, then reached out, took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"I'm taking you for a pint, so get moving," Mad-Eye told her, "That's an order".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. This chapter was a challenge to write both in terms of what actually happened, and the perspectives they were observed from. Please review to let me know what you thought.


	50. Correspondence

_Tonks,_

_You must be scared and confused as you read this. Don't be. I am not in danger nor I have I been taken against my will. I am leaving of my own violation, and by the time you read this I will be elsewhere. Having a werewolf as a husband and father would always have made life difficult for you and your child, although the fall of the Ministry has made it indescribably dangerous. Your family connections put you in danger already, and I cannot stay here and exacerbate this. I am giving you both a chance to start again without me. While I do not delude myself that you and the baby will be free from danger, I know you will both be safer this way than if I stay a presence in your lives._

_I am sorry to do this, but I am sorrier that I did you the cruelty of marrying you and putting you in this situation. It is nobody's fault but mine. Our marriage has made me immeasurably happy, but it was selfish to value my own happiness above your security, wellbeing and future. I am sorry for this grave mistake. I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, and for the pain I know that this will cause. I would not cause you such upset unless I was sure that it is in the best interests of you and your child. I am sorry too, for you and for your baby, if the child is a werewolf. I did not wish this for you but I have caused it._

_I will continue to be involved in the Order of the Phoenix, although I plan to undertake Order work elsewhere. I will try to arrange matters so we do not have to meet each other. I do not wish to cause you more distress._

_I am leaving all the money I have at present enclosed in an envelope. In a few days I will empty my vault and send you the remainder of my savings. It is not much but I hope it will help._

_I apologise for everything I have done to you. It is nobody's fault but mine. I am truly sorry._

_Yours sincerely,_

_RJL_


	51. Leagues

He's out of her league. He sometimes mutters that he doesn't deserve her, but like a lot of what Remus says that's self-deprecating bullshit. She's the one who doesn't deserve him. At twenty-three you’re _supposed_ to be thinking about yourself and your career, so it’s not as if Tonks is ashamed of that- she just isn’t sure why Remus, the most selfless person on the planet, wants to put up with it. He’s patient with Sirius, Molly, the kids, Mundungus- everybody. He’s wise, too; Tonks always had the knack for passing exams, and Auror training had been a case of mind over matter (with a big helping of Mad-Eye Moody). She's not going to pretend she isn't clever, but Remus has a wisdom and an articulateness (is that even a word? Remus would know) about him she can't begin to level. Her bookshelf is stuffed with crime thrillers, detective fiction and spy stories, which again she isn’t embarrassed about, although it makes her think how clever and patient Remus is to understand the hefty Victorian tomes he’s always lugging around with him. Debating is fun because he’s so smart and eloquent. Sometimes Tonks plays Devil’s advocate and disagrees with him about something for the excitement of hearing him counter-argue. It’s pretty bloody sexy too, and it makes her laugh when Remus gives her that exasperatedly amused look when he realises she’s only arguing with him for the sake of it. He's charming; he always has a hug or a hand-shake to offer, he's a good talker and an even better listener, and he's polite and friendly even when he's tired or it’s near the full-moon. People like to be with him; he's easy, pleasant company. Funny, too- he's wry and eloquent, and he knows exactly how to be Sirius' foil.

Tonks knows that he thinks of himself as boring. In fact, he is probably the most exciting person she knows. He's lived a really interesting life, lived in loads of places and done all sorts of jobs.

"Why are you interested in this?" he asked her recently, when she was needling him to tell her more about working in a Muggle steel factory.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it isn't remotely interesting,"

 _"I_ think it is,"

He'd looked at her strangely, fondly, as if pleased about how bewildered he was by her. Tonks feels the same way- one of the most exciting things is that she has no idea what it's like in Remus’ head. She likes to imagine that it's a library, and everything he knows is stored in a book. When he needs to know something he takes the book out of the shelf. She hopes that he has a whole bookshelf on her. She always thought she didn't have time for the mysterious sort of bloke, but he's different. Of course he's bloody different, he’s different to everybody, he’s an original.

She doesn't deserve a boyfriend who doesn't have much money for himself but who buys food to cook for her after work. Going out-out together didn’t work so they spend a lot of time in which, she reckons, means they’ve got closer more quickly. They were friends already, but staying in means they cut through the bullshit of dressing up and playing the dating game. She keeps telling him he doesn't have to cook, but he insists that he enjoys it. Loads of blokes would find that house-husband-iness emasculating, but that wouldn't even occur to Remus. Is that an older bloke thing, or is that just him? The older boyfriend thing _is_ a bit weird, especially as Remus such an old-fashioned older-guy. Sometimes he references stuff she’s never heard of, and he has no interest in modern music or fashion. And sometimes he mutters ashamedly that he knew her when she was little. He doesn’t add anything but they both know the implication, that there’s something improper or perverted about them, about him. Tonks always tells him that it doesn’t matter- that was ages ago and besides, most people they know met their partner at school. Plenty of girls have older boyfriends, and it isn't like there’s _decades_ between her and Remus. He isn’t her dad's age or anything creepy like that. It wasn’t as if she decided boys her own age were too immature and intentionally went looking for a man thirteen years older but, actually, she’s found she likes having an older boyfriend. He’s lived a life already and has experience, and that he’s stable and mature and doesn’t get petty or worry about little things. He isn’t get jealous about her having a good job and he’s good at talking her down when she gets into a state about something. He knows what really matters.

Apparently older men are supposed to be better in bed, too but, well...they're working on that. It isn't his fault- the werewolf thing makes him paranoid about hurting her (it makes him paranoid about most things). She worries that he doesn't want to- the first time they tried he got tense and twitchy, and they ended up just cuddling for the night. The four times they’ve managed to have sex since have seemed like a competition about who can ask, "Is this okay? " "Are you sure?" and “It's alright if you want to stop," the most times. Remus hasn't had a girlfriend for a while, which means a lot of things. It means he’s a careful rather than an expert lover. He doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but he’s a pretty quick learner and it helps that she thinks he’s the sexiest man on the planet. (Objectively, Tonks knows that he is he not a particularly handsome person. Words that might be used to describe him are, "normal", "average", "quite", “rather”, “sort of”. Nothing "very" or "extremely", nothing bright or bold. For months when Tonks first knew him she thought so too; she'd have said Remus was ordinary-looking, perhaps plain. And though she knows that's still realistically true, it seems daft now. His smile is lovely, his eyes are beautiful and kind. The greying hair and the spattering of crow's feet make him look distinguished and wise. They speak to the life and experiences he's lived. He’s graceful and a bit effeminate, but there’s a virility to his hoarse voice. He’s a mismatch, inside and out, and it’s intoxicating). Not having been in a relationship for a while means that Remus is an innocent in some ways- he likes kisses on his wrists and fingers and eyes, he can’t talk dirty to save his life, he’s very gentle and he needs her to be gentle back, he has this way of looking at her like he’s bamboozled that they’ve ended up doing this together. Not having had a girlfriend for ages means that being only the person who gets to do this to him in years makes her feel proud and possessive and turned on as hell. She was nervous too, the first time, but looking down at his pleased and surprised face, and feeling him hard inside her, was amazing. She owned him. Tonks wanted to ride him hard and fast, but she made herself ask, "Good?"

 "Really good". His voice was a croak.

Tonks found his hand and squeezed it.

"Can I move?" she asked.

"Yes. Umm, slowly. Please,"

He said please in the middle of sex- who was this guy? He was so strange, so sweet.

"Okay. Slow," she murmured. She'd wanted him to hold her hips and grind her down onto him, but he'd kept squeezing her hand. She wanted him to moan her name, but he only murmured incoherently to himself. She wanted to groan _his_ name over and over, but she made herself if it was slow enough and if it felt alright and if he wanted to stop. She wanted to be looking into his eyes when he came, but it happened too early and he had his eyes screwed shut. She didn't tell him to open them, or to say more, because this time was about him. Making him feel good, making him feel safe and reassured, making him feel special. He's so incredibly special. Afterwards he was all relieved and cuddly, but then he got embarrassed about coming early, and the next time they tried sex it took him ages to get hard. He kept stammering apologies, no matter how many times she told him it was fine.

“We don’t have to if you can’t- I mean, if you don’t want to,” she promised. Perhaps this was her fault- she’d poured them both a couple of glasses of wine in the hope that it’d help him to loosen up, but maybe it had made him _too_ relaxed.

“No, I do. I can. I do want to”. Remus was blushing and stumbling over his words. Usually Tonks would laugh at that or feel turned on that she could make Mr Unflappable so flustered. But instead she’d felt embarrassed and sorry for him. He didn’t say it out loud, but she could tell that it made him feel old and ill and useless. Last night he went on top, which worked better for him, especially as it meant that they could keep kissing (he needs lots of kissing). He kept worrying he was hurting her though, which was another annoying bit of werewolf paranoia, but was also cute and caring. She hopes one day she can convince him to be less serious about it, to giggle their way through. He'd be better if he lightened up. Tonks can tell that he’s only into vanilla stuff, but perhaps one day she can persuade him to be a bit more adventurous in bed. But if she can’t- well, then they’ll have to have a dull sex life. It’s not the most important thing in the world. Who cares if he’s boring in bed, when everything else about him is exciting and fascinating and fun?

Sex might be difficult to navigate, but he’s great at cuddling. He doesn't wriggle or grope. He doesn't moan about his arm going stiff, even when she asks him if he wants to switch positions. He tells the best stories. One of Tonks’ favourite things to do is to snuggle up to him and ask him to tell her about the book he’s reading (his versions are more entertaining and _way_ less time-consuming than reading the actual book), make up a story, or tell her a silly anecdote about Sirius when he was younger.

“He’ll skin me alive if he finds out I’ve told you this, so don’t say anything to him,” Remus grinned recently.

She batted her eyelashes innocently, “Would I?”

“Yes,”

She pouted, and Remus met her lips with a kiss, and told her a story about Sirius having to run back from Ravenclaw Tower naked in the middle of the night.

Sometimes, cuddling, Tonks says she needs to tell him something. She’ll twist round so she’s looking him the eye, and tell him how sweet and clever and patient and lovely he is. He's useless at taking compliments, obviously; too humble to acknowledge it. Sometimes that makes Tonks feel sorry for him, and other times it’s irritating. (Once or twice she’s been telling him a silly anecdote or about something at work, and she'll realise that it sounds like a boast. She wonders of he thinks she's arrogant, although on the other hand he's used to dealing with Blacks). She likes to cuddle him and put words about how wise and wonderful he is in his ears. Sirius has told her, with a flippancy which makes it worse, that Remus sees himself as dirty and disgusting. The fact that all the stupid, ignorant people in their world have made him believe that of himself makes Tonks want to punch somebody. She tells him that he isn't all those horrible things he thinks about himself. Once she told him he was honourable and he burst out laughing. That was understandable given that it's a stupid word, but it's true. He's fair, he keeps his promises, he doesn't tell lies.

"I didn't tell the truth about Sirius. I didn't tell Dumbledore that he was an Animagus, or that he knew about the secret passages," Remus had pointed out heavily.

"Because you knew in your heart that Sirius hadn't done it,” Tonks insisted, “After all that time you didn't quite believe it of him, and you were right,"

He's perceptive like that, and loyal to his friends.

"I did believe it of him," Remus corrected, "I didn't want to, but I'd had thirteen years to get it into my head that that's what happened. I was being selfish,"

Tonks linked her fingers with his. "Dumbledore forgave you," she reminded him, " _I_ forgive you,"

"I’m not sure he forgives me for almost killing Peter in front of three fourteen-year-olds,"

She shrugged, "You were angry. He deserved it. _And_ you didn't _actually_ do it,"

"I would have done if it hadn't been for Harry,"

"Well unfortunately Harry's fifteen, and at boarding school, and last Ginny told me he's going out with the Ravenclaw seeker, so until he becomes available I'll have to put up with you, won't I? "

He made a couple of mistakes when he was angry and confused- so what? He's still the most honourable guy she knows.

"Anyway," Tonks added, running her index finger down the side of his face, "Everybody knows that you were just showing off in front of Sirius".

…And everybody shows off on front of Sirius, he’s got that annoying quality about him which makes people want him to think they’re cool. Remus needs someone like that. She’s a Black so perhaps she’s biased, but Tonks reckons Sirius was and is a much healthier influence on Remus than most people would like to admit. It makes her happy to see them together and to know he’s got his best friend back. He hasn’t had a friend for years, he’s been so lonely. The world has been unfair on him. It’s thrown hardship after humiliation at him, and that would make anybody else become bitter, angry or cold. Remus is none of those things. He is patient, dignified, accepting and warm. He is kind.

It’s not just her who doesn’t deserve him- it’s the world.


	52. #JustBlackThings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on writing a follow-up to Ch41 #JustWerewolfThings, but I got the idea for this and it wouldn't let me go (said idea was partly inspired by the fabulous story Metamorphmagus by Lirazel. I highly recommend it). This chapter is quite dark and contains ideas and characterisations I suspect may be controversial. Warnings for that sort of thing, plus language and torture. I hope you enjoy.

_"If they try to burn you, may your fire be stronger than theirs so you can burn the whole fucking house down,"_

\- Morgan Lloyd Malcolm,  _Emilia_

**J** **uly 1**

He waited in the living room for her to arrive home. Being alone in Tonks' flat was strange. She insisted that it was  _their_ flat now, but Remus hadn't had time to bring any of his stuff over, save for his toothbrush and a couple of changes of clothes. It still felt like her home, her world. He liked being in her world.

There was a clang and a whizzing noise, and then she was spinning into the fireplace. Remus leapt out of the armchair.

"Hello," he said eagerly.

Tonks materialised fully, grabbed the sides of the fireplace to stop herself falling over, and said, "Wotcher. Crikey, are you a sight for sore eyes,"

She climbed out of the fireplace and into his arms, and Remus leaned down to kiss her hello. After a year apart, kissing her again made him almost dizzy. He wouldn't ever get tired of kissing her. Remus felt her sigh, and then she pulled away and laid her face against his chest. He liked it when she did that. He liked being able to hold her and look down at her and press his lips to the top of her head.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked quietly. There was the bigger question to ask to, but he thought he'd save it until she'd had a minute to relax.

"Yeah, just...knackered," Tonks mumbled into his shirt. She was still wearing her Auror robes over torn jeans and a white t-shirt. Remus liked seeing her in her uniform robes- she looked official and impressive. He moved his hand round from her back to her jaw and titled her face up to kiss her again, softly.

"I put the kettle on for you," he murmured against her mouth.

"Mmm, you're perfect. Could do with something a bit stronger though,"

Remus stamped a final kiss on her cheek, then let her go and followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and rummaged inside, reappearing a moment later with a lime green can.

"Do you fancy one?" she offered. It was one of the revolting tinned cocktails she liked.

"No, thank you,"

"Haven't had time to bloody shop, I don't think I've got any beer for you,"

"It's fine, we've been busy,"

The last four days had been a whirlwind even without getting engaged, moving in and trying to organise a wedding. Remus had been busy with Order stuff, while Tonks had been doing ten-hour days at the Ministry. It turned out that when Albus Dumbledore died there was a lot of paperwork to complete.

She cracked open the can and took a swig. Then she unclipped the front of her Auror robes, shrugged them off and tossed them onto the kitchen table. The robe hem dropped onto the floor and he bundled it back onto the table. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"Hey, come here," she muttered, jumping up to sit on the kitchen counter. Remus stepped over to her and she pulled him closer, wrapped her legs around his hips and draped her arms around his shoulders.

"I don't care if nobody understands," she murmured, "This is all I need. Just this,"

She was giving him permission to ask. Remus pecked her forehead and wondered how to phrase the question. After considering  _I assume it went badly, then?_  and  _How scared should I be?_  he played it safe with, "How did it go?"

"Doesn't matter," Tonks murmured

"Dora,"

She sighed and looked up at him. "Dad was okay. Shocked, but okay. He wants to meet you and come to the wedding and stuff,"

"That's kind of him," Remus pointed out.

"It's bare minimum," she countered.

"It's complicated. What about your mum?"

Tonks met his eyes, then looked away, put her can down, then took his hand and squeezed it between both of her own. "She threw a fit,"

Remus had expected that, but he still felt an unpleasant dropping sensation in his stomach.

"She doesn't understand," Tonks continued through gritted teeth, "She thinks she knows you but she doesn't know you, so it doesn't matter what she says. I don't need her permission. I don't need her there,"

"Did you tell her that?" he asked. He felt cold. He knew this would happen- Andromeda would shocked and sickened, she'd say Tonks was either stupid, mad or had been manipulated into the marriage. Since Andromeda knew her daughter wasn't stupid or crazy, she's assume manipulation. She'd assume Remus was conniving and controlling. She probably thought that he was feral, that he drank too much, he didn't wash. That he was selfish and untrustworthy. He was violent. He'd bite her to turn her into a monster too. It was a difficult assessment to argue with, since it was true for the werewolves Remus had spent almost a year living amongst.

"Of course I did. I told her if she said anything else about you I'd walk out and never come back,"

His stomach dropped further. "Dora, you didn't,"

"Yeah, I did and I meant it," she re-iterated.

"I don't want to antagonise your family. I want to-"

"-and she  _knows_  I meant it because it's what she did Dad. She thinks she's different to the rest of them but if she says those things about you then she's just as stupid and prejudiced as her sisters," Tonks growled.

"There's a different between marrying a Muggle-born and marrying a werewolf," Remus pointed out. Even these days, the two things were barely comparable.

"There's not a difference in meeting a really,  _really_ special guy and knowing what you have with him is more important than some stupid prejudice your parents have. She knows exactly what that's like,"

She called him special a lot. Remus never knew what to think, because as far as he was concerned he was boring, and the one thing which made him different didn't mean he was special- it meant he was dirty and dangerous.

Dora was squeezing his hand even tighter now, so hard that it hurt. He'd forgotten, while he'd been away, how intense she could be.

"Alright. At least you've got telling them over with," he said wearily, groping for something positive to say.

"Yeah, and we're still going over for tea tomorrow evening," Tonks added, "Sorry, I should have lead with that,"

"Right. Good". He slipped his hand out from between hers, used it to push her hair behind her ear, and dolloped a kiss to the side of her nose. She still had her legs hooked around his hips. Even when she was being difficult, touching and kissing and being affectionate with her felt soothing and uplifting and that damn word "special". It felt like home. Dora didn't need him telling her off, Remus reminded himself- she needed him to listen to her. The only way they were going to get anywhere with her mother was through compromise, and to be able to compromise with Andromeda he'd have to compromise with Dora, and he could compromise best with her best if he was extra loving and sweet to get her onside.

"Come on, let's chill out on the sofa and I'll tell you the Order news," Remus suggested.

Tonks giggled. "Did you just say chill out?"

He shrugged and waggled his eyebrows at her. She looked back, half-grin, half-awe. Remus was still bowled over that he was in the receiving end of that look. It was not, he thought gloomily, the sort of look he expected to receive from her mother.

"Then we can go to the shops and buy some food," he added, "Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered (she was really sexy when she whispered). She gave him another kiss, then hopped off the counter, picked up her can and led the way back into the living room. But as she opened the kitchen door again, he heard her mutter under her breath, "I won't see her. And she knows I'll do it because it's exactly what she did before".

* * *

**July 2**

He still smirked sometimes, remembering Sirius spending half an hour insisting to Professor Mayhewer that California was the capital of Transylvania.

"You know that's not true," James had pointed out that afternoon as they traipsed back up to the common room.

"Of course it is,"

"James is right," Remus had pointed out.

"You're both idiots," Sirius declared, "Peter agrees with me don't you?"

"Umm," murmured Peter.

"See, that's two against two and my vote counts for more cos I'm the oldest. California  _is_ the capital city of Transylvania.

James and Remus rolled their eyes at each other.

"Your funeral," Remus sighed.

His best friend had always had impenetrable conviction. If Sirius decided he was right, then Sirius was right and woe betide anybody who tried to argue. It was that conviction which kept Padfoot pushing through the Animagi project when the rest of them thought it was too difficult. In hindsight, Remus saw that it was conviction which helped Sirius stay sane when at home with his family. It was certainly conviction which made him run away from them at sixteen. It was conviction in his friendship and fury which made him hunt down Wormtail, conviction of his own innocence which kept him sane through those long years in prison surrounded by Dementors, and conviction in his duties as godfather which made him escape and fight to the death to protect Harry. And it was conviction which had made him insist on coming to the Ministry to rescue his godson. Sirius Black lived and died with conviction.

Remus had seen it in Sirius' mother too- that damn portrait which refused to budge and held her Pureblood convictions even after death. He'd seen the way Sirius' cousin Bellatrix looked at her Lord, too. Her conviction was horrifying.

But worse than Bellatrix's fanaticism or the screeching portrait or Sirius' self-destructive conviction, was Dora standing in front of him, arms folded tightly across her chest, telling him through gritted teeth that she was having their baby, "Money or no money, war or no war, werewolf or no werewolf".

Remus wanted to argue, and he would, but he could tell it was pointless. He knew that conviction, that look in the eye. She was keeping the baby and nothing would change her mind.

Remus reckoned that that was the moment he knew he had to leave.

* * *

**August**

His first full moon since going away and coming back had hurt less than usual. Ironic, since he was pretty sure he deserved the pain this time. It was over now and he was in sprawled bed, plasters and bandages patched over his limbs, while his wife sat cross-legged on the bed beside him, holding his hand and running her thumb over his knuckles. Remus had let her stay with him in the aftermath, and Tonks had surprised him by being nervy and hesitant about what to do. She usually always wanted to mollycoddle him so her unsureness was unnerving. Perhaps she was unwell too- what if something had happened, something had….changed?

Remus lifted his head off the pillow and looked over at her. "You didn't...feel anything, did you?" he croaked.

"What do you mean?"

He swallowed. "Last night. Did it feel like something was changing inside you? The baby, I mean,"

Tonks' thumb stopped moving on his skin. "No,"

The answer should have given Remus comfort, but it didn't. "Oh," he sighed.

"I  _promise_  I'll tell you if I think it's a werewolf, okay?" Dora told him seriously, "And I promise you, right now I'm sure it isn't,"

Remus sighed again. She was always telling him how kind he was, but it was beyond kind to stay with, hold hands with, nurse and heal a man who had been a monster two hours before,  _and_  who had recently tried to leave her and her baby for good. He didn't deserve somebody as generous and understanding as her. At least the baby would be hers as well as his, Remus thought. That'd give it some hope.

"I'll love it whatever happens," Remus promised himself aloud, "I won't run away again. I'll be here if it's a werewolf or a Metamorphmagus or a Squib,"

He was in this for good now. If Dora was wrong, or lying to reassure him (even her lies were kind) and their child _was_  a werewolf, he would protect it and help it. His own parents had managed it, so he and Dora could too. They'd have to, for the child. They'd love it-  _he'd_ love it- no matter what.

Tonks gripped his hand tightly. "Remus. Our baby will not be a Squib,"

"I'd take a Squib over a werewolf. At least it'd be healthy,"

He'd take anything over a werewolf, but he'd stay whatever happened.

Dora squeezed his hand to make him look at her. Her expression was serious, almost glaring. It was an expression which reminded Remus that however caring she was being while he was ill, she was still livid with him for leaving.

"No," she said coldly, "There are no Squibs in this family".

* * *

**October**

An odd thing that had developed over the last few weeks was a friendship with Bill and Fleur Weasley. Dora had known Bill at school, and Remus supposed they liked the same music and clothes. He had to admit too, that although Tonks and Fleur seemingly had very little in common and he'd always thought that they found each other irritating, perhaps they could relate to each other. They both looked different after all, and they took pride in their magical appearances. They were both married to victims of Fenrir Greyback, although everybody knew that Bill, and by extension Fleur, had got off more lightly.

The four of them had been to the pub for the evening and were now walking back towards Tinworth. Remus grimaced when he thought of how strange he must look next to all these young people- Dora had pointed out a few times that Bill was six years older than Fleur, but that was still eleven years younger than Remus. Tonks was nattering to Bill about some musician, and Remus had fallen into step behind Fleur. She wasn't especially easy to talk to, and Remus got the impression that she, like him, didn't entirely understand how he'd ended up in their group. When the four of them had been chatting in the pub, Remus had things to say to Fleur, but with Dora and Bill talking amongst themselves, he was drawing a blank. In the uneasy silence, Remus listened to what the others were saying in front of them.

"These are nice houses, aren't they?" Tonks was observing cheerfully, "Me and Remus might have to move when the baby's born. I'd be cool to have a proper big house, wouldn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," smirked Bill. The scars across his face had given his smile an odd bump in the middle.

"That's bollocks, the Burrow's huge," scoffed Tonks.

"That's because there's the nine of us, three owls and about ten hangers-on round at any one time. Mum keeps trying to trick me into saying I miss it, but I prefer the quiet,"

"I guess that happens when you grow up with the twins,"

"Exactly. You're an only child, you don't know the struggle,"

"On the other hand, I'm now an only child living with my husband and my Mum, with no siblings around to dilute the awkwardness," Dora pointed out.

"She's still not convinced about Remus, then?" sighed Bill.

"She's getting there," Dora shrugged, then continued bracingly, "When this is over we'll all probably get Order of Merlins for being in the Order, so we'll be able to afford a new house. Hopefully Dad'll be able to come home by then, too,"

Remus had always loved her flippant optimism, although wasn't sure where all this house talk was coming from. She'd never mentioned an interest in the subject before; she'd asked him to move into her flat once they were engaged, and now they were mostly living with Andromeda. The thought of moving into a new place together hadn't occurred to Remus.

"Since when do you get money for an Order of Merlin?" questioned Bill.

"Well, not for the OM itself, but you do publicity for it, interviews and stuff," Dora explained, "Even Mad-Eye did a few. And then me and Remus can get a nice big house in Trafford,"

Perhaps Tonks had always liked houses and just hadn't mentioned it before, Remus thought. Or maybe she'd had a phase when she was younger, and the pregnancy and the sort-of move to Andromeda's had made her think about it again. Her brain was like that; she often came out with a ridiculous story or an unexpected nugget of information. Remus always learnt things when he was with her, and he was always learning more about her. His wife was constantly surprising and bamboozling him. Remus hoped she'd never stop.

* * *

**December**

She was still talking about houses a few weeks later. It was a Friday evening and Dora was sitting on the sofa beside him, chattering on about where they could move to. Remus had stopped listening- sometimes he liked to switch off to what his wife was saying and just watch the way she moved, the gestures she made with her hands and the shapes words made in her mouth. Tonks was fascinating to look at. She'd been putting on weight lately, although since they weren't sharing a bed anymore Remus hadn't had the opportunity to look closer this week. They started out trying to have one night a week back at the flat, though that had fallen by the wayside amongst the pre-Christmas busyness. Remus missed Tonks spooning up behind him and putting his hand over his heartbeat. He missed waking up with her beside him, knowing she was safe (although he didn't miss her twitching and fidgeting in her sleep, and accidentally kicking him awake when she got up). A few minutes ago he'd been lying with his head on her lap on the sofa, but then her mother had walked in and Remus sat up abruptly and shifted away so they weren't even touching. Dora rolled her eyes, but it was better to be safe than sorry with Andromeda, especially as she seemed to be gradually coming round to him of late. (Truthfully, Remus have moved away from his wife regardless of whoever it had been entering the room; he didn't like anybody seeing them like that).

"Remus?" said Tonks' voice, interrupting his thoughts.

He jolted. "Pardon?"

"Daydreaming again?" Dora smirked, then explained, "I was talking about the baby's bedroom. What colour should we paint it?"

He didn't understand. "Is it going to have a bedroom?"

"Hypothetically," Tonks clarified, as if this was obvious.

"Oh. Err...red?" Remus suggested absently. He loved her when she was like unpredictable like this, asking questions he'd never even thought of. Throwing curveballs, making his brain think it way it had never had to before he met her.

"Nice. Womb-like. It'll feel right at home," Dora nodded, making him snort with laughter. Then she clicked her fingers and said with realisation, "Oh, you're only saying that 'cos red for Gryffindor,"

That hadn't occurred to him. "No. It's a nice colour," Remus shrugged, scanning his brain for more reasons to paint the child's room red, "It's, err, welcoming. Warm. It works for a boy or a girl,"

They didn't know if they were having a girl or a boy; Tonks insisted that it should be a surprise (of course she did. She liked surprises. Things like that hammered home their age difference; she was open and unjaded) and she didn't mind either way. Remus wanted a girl. He wanted a child who was as different to him as possible. Not his gender, not his looks, not his Hogwarts house and please, _please_  not his dirty, cursed beast-blood. He wanted the baby to be like her, get everything from her, and nothing from him.

"Hmm, this still sounds like Gryffindor propaganda to me. I'm painting its room Hufflepuff yellow, then," Dora needled.

Remus could tell she wanted him to argue. They both enjoyed pointless arguments like this; working around one another, trying to get a step ahead, having to consider what on Earth it was like in the other person's head (her head, Remus reckoned, was probably not on Earth). But he didn't want to argue about this. She thought she was teasing him but in his mind it was a threat; a taunt that the baby would inherit his curse.

"You really are dozy today, aren't you?" said Tonks, breaking into his thoughts again, "Do you want to go to bed?"

(The full moon was five days away). The concern in her voice was touching; Remus still sometimes had to pinch himself that he was cared about this much by another human being.

"I'm alright," he muttered.

"Alright," Dora nodded, "Yellow walls, then?"

"What about the walls you have in your room?"

Tonks' old bedroom, where Remus was sleeping, had a kind of paint on the walls which changed colour every few hours throughout the day and night. This morning the wall facing Remus's bed had been orange, the two either side had been purple, and the wall behind the bed had been grey.

"I found the tub a few months ago and it said not suitable for under 5s' bedrooms. Messes up their vision development or something," Dora explained, pulling a face.

"Ah, right," he murmured. Glancing at her, Remus remembered that she was looking for a silly argument. He'd give her one.

"Why not brown for Hufflepuff?" he suggested, throwing her a teasing smirk.

"Brown?"

"Yes,"

"Remus, I'm not giving birth to a mole,"

He snorted again for a moment, until his brain taunted that no, it wasn't a mole, it was a werewolf. Remus tried to push the thought away. There wasn't anything he could do about that now.

"Brown is a warm colour too," he pointed out, "And your child's probably going to get mud all over the walls, so at least it'll hide that,"

"Okay, I'll grant you that brown walls will be useful when it's in nappies," grinned Tonks.

"It might not be Hufflepuff  _or_ Gryffindor colours," interjected Andromeda unexpectedly, "It could be a Slytherin,"

It took Remus a moment to realise what she meant.

"Yes, it might be," he agreed softly. All Blacks, almost, on its grandmother's side. That hadn't occurred to Remus before. It had taken him a few weeks to realise that the baby would be related to Sirius; something like his first cousin twice removed. It was a bizarre, funny and warm idea.

Their baby might be a Slytherin, Remus considered, but that didn't matter to him. He knew better than most people that labels weren't defining. Besides, their child's sorting was twelve years away. There were far more important things to worry about before then.

"D'you want it to get into Slytherin, Mum?" Tonks demanded.

"If Slytherin is right for it. Why, do you not?" Andromeda shot back.

"Well, I'd prefer Hufflepuff,  _obviously._  Yellow's better colour than green for a bedroom, and Dad said the common room's much nicer," Tonks shrugged (Andromeda, Dora had once told him, had sometimes given Ted the Slytherin common room password so they could meet there at night). The comment sounded blasé, just Dora wanting to get her own way as usual. There wasn't a baby's room to paint- it was, as Tonks had said, hypothetical. But the sharpness in her tone, and the haughty look Andromeda shot her as the former turned back to her newspaper, made Remus consider that perhaps he was the only one who was nervous about what they'd pass on to the baby.

"Well," said Andromeda, with a hint of something confusing and cold and hurt, "Children rarely do what parents would prefer,"

She turned the page in her newspaper. Remus resisted the urge to look over to his wife with a  _what did that mean?_ expression. He didn't know who his mother-in-law was referring to, or if it was a general point. It was often difficult to tell with Andromeda; she was almost as good at disguise as her daughter. Surely Tonks wouldn't mind if the baby was a Slytherin? Surely Andromeda didn't  _really_ want it to be- she wouldn't mind either way?

Frowning, Remus picked his mug up from the coffee table. The curse in his blood was the biggest threat to their child, that much was obvious. But, he thought, taking a sip of tea, that didn't mean that there weren't other sorts of curses- ones not caused by wands or bites, but by family, rivalry, secrets, pride, history and envy.

His was not the only scar.

* * *

**February**

Three days after they got the letter telling them that Ted had been killed, Remus' wife went outside after teatime and sat in the garden. The first time, he'd followed her out and asked if she was alright, but Dora had snapped at him to leave her alone and he did as she asked, leaving the door on latch for her. She did the same thing the following day, and the next, and Remus left her to it. She usually came inside after half an hour or so, looking a bit tearful, and went upstairs to her room. Today was the fifth day, and it was drizzling outside so Remus risked popping into the garden to offer his wife her anorak. Wordlessly, she took it and pulled it on. Remus left her to it and began to walk back towards the house, when Tonks said unexpectedly: "Stay here a minute,"

He came back over and sat down beside her on the damp patio. He didn't mind damp. He was used to damp.

Tonks was fiddling with her wand. "Have you ever used the Cruciatus before?" she asked.

He hadn't expected that. "No,"

She held out her hand to him, and Remus saw a brown beetle scurrying over her index finger.

"There you go, then," Dora offered.

Remus almost laughed, but she shoved her hand further towards his face and he saw that she was being serious. He found that the damp patio was suddenly very uncomfortable, and the weather was far too cold.

"No," he said stiffly.

"Oh, come on, Mad-Eye did it on me on practically first day, and it's as good as legal now anyway,"

"Mad-Eye put the Cruciatus on you?" Remus echoed.

 _"Yeah,"_ said Tonks, in an irritatingly exaggerated tone, "Not every week, but a couple of times. Your first time was in a duel, wasn't it?

"My only time," Remus clarified, "Yes,"

It had been during the last war, not long after James' parents died. Remus had been doing some Order work with Peter- nothing dangerous, just some surveillance, and the two of them had gone for a drink together after Caradoc and Emmeline took over to watch. They'd been chatting over a pint in the Leaky Cauldron when the door flung open and Rowle and Gibbon had burst in, tipped over a table and started yelling and blasting curses. A few customers had run forward to defend themselves, and Remus had called to Peter to take the others out of the back exit to safety. There had been perhaps five of them, including Remus, against the two Death Eaters, but Rowle and Gibbon had a time advantage, and within seconds one of the drinkers who'd come to help Remus was disarmed and another was stupefied. Remus had attempted to stun Gibbon, but before he could there'd been a ripping pain in his bones, like when he was transforming into the wolf, but more acute, like a stabbing. The pain had only lasted a few moments and then he'd collapsed on the floor. By the time he could sit up again, the pub was half-destroyed and the Death Eaters had left.

Limping home with Peter a couple of hours later, it had occurred to Remus that considering he had a pretty high pain threshold and was used (if that was the word) to feeling his limbs contorted, his experience of the Cruciatus must have been less intense than most people's. Although a more intense sensation was difficult to imagine; it had been so sudden and painful overwhelming. James had asked Remus about it later and Sirius had smacked James round the head and told him to shut up.

"Well, you can understand why it's best to know what it's going to feel like before it hits you unexpectedly when you're duelling," Dora explained, back in the garden.

"I understand, I'm just surprised,"

Of course it'd be a part of Auror training- how were they to understand what an unforgiveable curse was if they hadn't experienced it themselves?- but Remus hadn't thought about it like that before. The mental image which swam into his head wasn't hugely abhorrent: he'd imagined Dora being tortured hundreds of times before- by Bellatrix, by Voldemort, by himself under the Imperious curse- so placing Mad-Eye in the picture, torturing her as part of a consensual training exercise, wasn't as bad.

She laughed. "You didn't know him at work. Anyway, come on, let this beetle pop your Crucio cherry,"

Her relationship with Mad-Eye had had an edge to it- the jibes they threw at each other, the shorthand, the understanding they had of when to question and when to obey, the toughness, the loyalty- which perhaps, Remus considered, only came through the sort of training where they had been required to torture each other.

"No," he repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to torture something,"

"They teach it at Hogwarts now, haven't you heard what Ginny's been saying?" Tonks scoffed. He hated that patronising tone of hers.

" _Death Eaters_  teach it at Hogwarts," Remus pointed out, then changed the subject, "Why don't you come inside, you're getting chilly out here,"

He wasn't sure what was going on, but it felt odd and uncomfortable. He didn't like it.

"I'm fine. Don't you want to know what it  _feels_  like?" Dora asked. There was far too much relish in her voice.

"Can we- do you mind if we don't talk about this?" Remus asked uncomfortably.

"What else do you think I've been doing out here?" she asked.

"What?"

"I've been thinking about Dad," Dora explained, "I bet they tortured him, I know they did. So I've been practising out here. It's making me feel kind of better,"

Once Remus registered her words, it was the ambivalence in her tone which shocked him the most. Tonks must have caught on to him shock because she looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't go all professor on me. They did it to my dad, I think I'm allowed to do it to insects,"

It was such a bizarre comment that Remus almost laughed. But the look in her eye was deadly serious and her tone suggested that he was being pathetic. Remus could have kicked himself. How easily he forgot who her family were, the ruthlessness of her aunts and cousins, the violence throughout the bloodline. It was a eye for an eye, always, with the Blacks. How could he have forgotten that about her? Underneath all the daftness and the pink hair and the Auror robes and the fact that she made him so incredibly happy, the Blackness was always lurking.

"I'm going to put the kettle on and run you a bath and you can come inside and relax," Remus announced, getting to his feet and trying to push away thoughts of Grimmauld Place and Sirius' mother, and the fact that Dora was torturing things  _with their baby inside her._

Tonks laughed nastily. "You don't want to deal with me doing this. You want me to be sad and crying, like a nice  _grieving_  wife," she accused, voice dripping with derision, "Well, sorry, because I'm not all fucking weepy and mopey, you can't just give me a hug and make everything better. I'm angry, I'm so fucking angry at them all, and I'm staying out here to torture spiders, okay?"

For a second, Remus thought she was blatantly wrong. He wanted to snap at her to stop acting like a child. He wanted to roll is eyes and ask irritably why she always had to be so dramatic. He wanted to lift her up and take her inside and hold her in his lap until she feel asleep. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to stop, please just stop, couldn't she see this was how Bellatrix had started? Insects one day, mice the next, cats then dogs then human beings. But wasn't that it? Tonks  _was_ like Bellatrix, and like Sirius and Narcissa all the rest. Remus didn't like the Black part of his wife, and he'd pushed it away rather than confront it. Rather than accept it. It wasn't going away- this was who, what she was and he couldn't change it. She had insisted again and again that it didn't matter to her that he was a werewolf. Was he going to let it matter to him that she was a Black? She couldn't help who her family were, any more than he could help having been bitten. Love, he knew, was as much about the "despite" as it was about the "because".

Tonks reached up and batted a tear away from her face. Remus swallowed. He trusted her, didn't he? He trusted that if this was how it had started with Bellatrix, with Dora it would stop before it went further. She knew where to stop. She could choose to stop it- she had already for, years, she'd chosen a side. Shouldn't he, of all people, understand that?

Remus stood between the door and his wife for a moment. Then he stepped over to her, put a hand on her shoulder, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She was right that he didn't like her grieving like this. But it was her grief, not his.

"Alright," he muttered softly, "You do what you need to do. I'll be waiting inside".

* * *

**April**

She'd shown him her real face one before. He hadn't asked but she'd told him she needed to show him something. The pink hair and olive skin melted away and her features had lengthened and sharpened, becoming more elegant. Her eyes were the same shape as Sirius'. Objectively, he knew the face looking back at him was good-looking- more handsome than pretty, and certainly striking- but that was difficult to admit when it looked so much like that other face. The face which glowed around its Master and shrieked as it tortured. The face which, unbeknownst to Remus then, in a few week's time would cackle as it sent his best friend through the veil. Remus had told his wife- she'd been his girlfriend back then- that it didn't matter what she looked like and whichever face she chose would be her real face to him. He'd been telling the truth, and he hadn't thought about her other face for months. Except now Tonks was panting and groaning on her mother's bed, face contorted and breath heaving as she tried to push the baby out. She was sweating and swearing and pounding her fist on the mattress. Remus kept promising her that it would be alright, that he knew she could do it, that it would be over soon and they'd have their baby. But as he looked at her he couldn't help but think how much the maddened, ferocious look on his wife's face was the same expression he'd seen on the face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

**May**

"Okay," she whispered, "I'll stay here,"

Remus exhaled heavily. "Thank you," he croaked. Harry needed as many people as possible, but he didn't need her. She had to stay safe, she had to stay with Teddy.

Tonks, who had been pacing nervously up and down, came to a sudden stop in front of Remus, and reached up to grip his shoulders.

"If You-Know-Who kills Harry, they'll have won for good, right?" she intoned, "And they will find Teddy and they will hurt him,

Remus nodded. "I know,"

"Look at me," she told him. He met her eyes.

"So there's no thinking about killing anymore. You just do it, understand?" Tonks instructed.

It wasn't about killing, not yet. For the moment the Order needed to get the students out of school, protect Hogwarts, and buy Harry some time.

"Harry's looking for something, he needs time, he needs defending," Remus pointed out. He didn't have time to argue with Dora any longer- they'd wasted minutes deciding which one of them would stay behind, and he had to say goodbye properly to her and Teddy. That would be difficult enough.

"Yeah, from the people who want to kill him and kill you and kill your son," said Tonks, shaking him slightly, "Either that or they'll send him away to Greyback,"

She let go of his shoulders, ran a hand through her hair and continued, "I thought about this the day he was born. When you were out at Bill and Fleur's, I was watching him sleep and I realised how much easier it is to hurt people now. Mad-Eye always said you should consider your options, but there's no option when it comes to him, is there?"

Remus didn't reply.

"Is there?" Tonks snarled, glaring at him.

"No," he agreed. Didn't she think he understood what was at stake? Didn't she remember what he'd told Harry the night Mad-Eye died? If it came down to it Remus would fight, he would kill. He didn't need to think of Teddy to do that.

"Exactly. I want you to remember how he cries and imagine what it'll sound like when it's Bellatrix torturing him. Don't think she won't do that- if it's my baby she would, she'd love it, she'd probably get turned on by it,"

He winced, and Tonks must have noticed because she snapped, "Yeah, that's why I'm saying this, because I want you to be thinking about it when you're there, so that you don't stop for a second,"

No, he thought sadly, she was saying this because she was a Black. Ruthlessness, violence and torture were a part of her.

"I know," Remus nodded, trying to move the conversation on. He had to leave soon, and he didn't want their last few minutes together to be like this. He wanted her to be teasing him, asking him annoying questions, kissing him, making him laugh, cuddling their baby together, instead of thinking of what would happen if he didn't come home. He wanted to say goodbye to her when she was being funny and mischievous and kind, not Black.

"Promise me you'll remember what they'll do to him?" Tonks insisted, and he noticed that she didn't look afraid. How strange she was.

"I promise,"

Dora pulled him to her and hugged him tighter that Remus could ever remember her holding him before. She threaded a hand into his hair and said through gritted teeth, "You say I have to stay here because I have to look after him cos I'm a mum now. But 'cos I'm a mum now it means there's nothing that could stop me from trying to kill them all,"

Was it because she was a mother, Remus wondered, or was it because she was a Black? Mothers _would_  kill, but they did not, generally, see violence as an incentive or a goal. Is that what Dora was doing? But he needed to leave soon and there were more important things to be thought and said. Remus pushed the questions to the back of his mind; he needed to focus now.

But if he'd have lived, he'd have thought about her words again later _. There's nothing that could stop me._ Conviction, disobedience, arrogance, violence. He should have known that she was never going to stay at her mother's house with the baby for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Perhaps surprisingly given the content, I've really enjoyed writing this chapter. Please review to let me know if you liked it too. If you want to read more about what a complicated, brilliant, frightening thing it is to be a Black, please check out my story Magpies. Thank you.


	54. September Dusk

He’s never liked her. Severus doesn’t like anybody much, but she was one of his least favourites of her cohort. He disliked the way she wanted to be called by her last name. Lots of the boys styled themselves that way and it irritated Severus that when he called them by their second name it sounded familiar and friendly, rather than the detached formality befitting of a teacher. He hadn’t met many girls who preferred to be known by their surnames, which made him suspicious of her from the outset. Early on he decided to always call her by her first name, a name which wasn’t as bad as she protested. He hated the way she turned up late to lessons and answered back and had the handwriting of a blind five-year-old. He despised her Metamorphmagus abilities. Her hair was different every lesson, or she’d be the smallest girl in the class one day and almost as tall as Severus the next. She’d distract everybody by messing with her nose and ears. Once, in her third year, she made herself look like Khadeeja Tails, who sat beside her. Severus put her in detention for a week, disturbed by the thought that she could make herself look the same as somebody else. She could make herself look like Severus himself. The idea made his skin crawl. Mostly, though, she used her abilities for attention. Severus had always hated show-offs. He should have known by her arrogance that she was related to Black. When Severus found that out, he liked her even less.

He disliked how she was always spilling ingredients, dropping vials and nicking her fingers with her knife. He didn’t like how her roots were bunglingly sliced and her Sopophorous beans hard. He detested the fact that despite this, she was the best in her year at Potions. Severus tried again and again to discourage her; detention after detention, marking her down in tests, finding excuses to pour her brew away in the middle of as assessment so that she had to start again with half as much time as the rest of the class. None of it worked. She marched in every lesson, slung her bag on the table and started determinedly setting out her equipment. Severus never managed to make her cry, and every year she seemed to get better at his subject, not worse. She was the type of pupil Severus had always despised; the ones who were clever and hardworking, but still had friends and made jokes and ambled in yawning on a Monday morning after a common room party. Severus heard her mention her ambition to be an Auror and was looking forward to crushing it with an E in Potions (an A if he was lucky). But her practical exam was perfect and she only dropped three marks in the written assessment. Severus remembers the sinking feeling when he tasted her Potion, and how he clenched his Quill with rage as he inscribed the “O” on the front of her exam paper. After that, he had to put up with another two years of her clattering and chatter and her ridiculous hairstyles. She didn’t stop talking about being an Auror during her NEWTs, and she even started demanding extra homework. Severus didn’t think they’d take her seriously at the Auror department, and he told her so himself. Her Potions, though, remained excellent. By the time she took her NEWT exams, Severus was pre-occupied preparing himself for Potter’s arrival that Autumn, although it was impossible to ignore the news that she’d been accepted into the Auror academy, because Professor Sprout had written to all the professors to tell them (showing off, again. Weren’t Hufflepuffs supposed to be humble?).

Severus was surprised to see her in the Order a few years later. He ignored her at first, and she stayed out of his way too. Occasionally Severus saw her throw a nasty glare in his direction, but that was nothing new. Severus was used to receiving nasty glares; he almost liked it. Sometimes if she was irritating him he’d make a snide comment about her age or her gawkishness or how surprised he was that she’d passed her Auror training (the truth, Severus and everybody else knew, was only because Mad-Eye Moody had cheated the system to get her through. Severus’ respect for Moody dipped after realising that Mad-Eye had chosen her as his favourite, and that he was the reason she was in the Order in the first place). He never mentioned her hair or her clothes or how she messed around with her appearance. He knew that that was all for attention, and Severus wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

He'd first got wind of her dalliance with Lupin when he’d arrived at Grimmauld for a meeting on a blustery February evening. Severus walked through the hallway and had half-opened the door to the dining room before realising that Lupin and Black were alone in there. He'd let go of the doorknob abruptly and backed into the corner of the corridor to wait for someone else to arrive. He wasn't going to go into a room alone with Black and his lackey. Severus could hear them talking, but he didn't care about listening in until Black burst out, "For Merlin's sake, just _ask her out!"_

Severus raised his eyebrows, unsure that he had heard right.

"Sirius, give it a rest," Severus heard Lupin retort through the door.

"It's Valentine's Day next week, here's your chance. You march up to her and ask her if she fancies a drink,"

Severus was stunned. _Lupin_ was after somebody? And a _her_ at that? Poor woman.

"No," said Lupin stiffly.

"Why not?" Black whined.

"She'll say no. Chances are she won't ever want to speak to me again, and-" Lupin cut himself off.

"And you like her too much to entertain that possibility," Black chuckled, "You really are smitten, aren't you?"

There was the sound of someone being clapped on the back.

"I like her as a friend," Lupin murmured, as if beginning a confession.

Black snorted.

"And I want to keep her as a friend. I don't want to endanger that," Lupin continued.

"I will never understand you," marvelled Black.

"Thank heaven for that," Lupin sighed.

Severus jolted as a pompous voice boomed, "Ah, good evening Severus,"

Severus spun around to see Sturgis Podmore striding through the hall towards him. Severus groaned internally. Podmore didn't seem to have understood that Severus disliked him

"Everything alright at Hogwarts?" Podmore asked briskly, shaking Severus' hand.

"Delightful," Severus drawled.

"What are you doing here, skulking like a schoolboy?" demanded Podmore. He pushed open the dining room door. "Sirius, Remus, good evening," he greeted grandly, as Severus loped in behind.

"Hello, Poddy," said Lupin, "Hello, Severus,"

Severus ignored him.

"Remus just said hello to you," snapped Black, "Left your manners with your shampoo, have you?"

Black's taunts hardly touched Severus anymore. The man was a coward. Severus saw Lupin kick Black under the table.

"Let's not get off to a bad start," blustered Podmore, then added with relief, "Ah, Molly, good evening,"

The Weasleys’ mother had brought a gaggle of Order members with her, talking and bickering as they walked into the dining room. Their chatter irritated Severus, although at least they spared him from being alone with Black

Walking back to his room at Hogwarts later that night, Severus remembered the conversation between Lupin and Black. He could almost laugh at the preposterousness of Lupin being having designs on somebody. The only idea more amusing was that a woman could have designs on Lupin back, which, despite what Black had been implying, was impossible. Lupin was ill, dull and a dangerous creature. Nobody could fall in love with a werewolf. Lupin had insisted to Black that he couldn’t peruse anything, clearly trying to avoid causing himself pain. Although, mused Severus, pushing open the door to his quarters, there was still hope that this mystery woman would shatter him into pieces.

Diggle let slip who the woman was. The old man was as subtle as a bludger and blurted it out one evening a few weeks later.

“Where’s Tonks and Remus?” William Weasley piped up. Severus didn’t like him either.

“They’re in Diagon Alley, I hear she’s finally persuaded him to accompany her out,”

“What?” asked Weasley, “Are they, like, together?”

“Goodness gracious Godric, I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody!” squeaked Diggle. He was almost as bad as Filius.

Severus pretended not to care, but the thought of it being Nymphadora who was the object of Lupin’s affection was bizarre. She was barely out of school, and Lupin was the same age as Severus. Who’d have thought Remus Lupin had a predilection to younger women? Severus shuddered. He’d seen Lupin transformed during Black’s little prank, and the sight had sickened and appalled him. The werewolf was huge, dirty and grotesque, gnashing and frothing at the mouth as if rabid. Such a creature was unloveable. Such a monster was undeserving of love.

It was just like Nymphadora though, to be enticed by Lupin’s affliction. She’d see it at a challenge and a bragging point. She’d always rattled on about her Muggle-born father (as if that was anything interesting) so of course she’d be thrilled at the prospect of going further, of embarking on a relationship with a dark creature. He can imagine her gleefully announcing it to everyone she met, thrilled at their horror, relishing the attention. Severus curled his lip in disdain. The odd thing was that Lupin hated attention. He was a coward, the sort of man who looked as if he wanted to blend into the wallpaper. Severus had no idea what they saw in each other, yet when yet they had walked into the Grimmauld Place kitchen a few minutes later, windswept and grinning, it was clear that they had been somewhere together (Nymphadora’s explanation of, “We just bumped into each other outside,” was unconvincing). Severus supposed that he’d seen her making a nuisance of herself around Grimmauld Place the last few times he had visited, although he’d assumed she was there to see Black, so they could cackle and brag and indulge in their revolting ostentatiousness together. It had never occurred to him that she might there to see Lupin too. It had never occurred to Severus that anybody would _ever_ go out of their way to see Lupin. He’d always got the impression that Lupin thought the same.

Severus knew it would end badly, so he was unsurprised a few weeks ago when Dumbledore informed him that Lupin had gone away for a few months. Severus hadn’t asked where or why, but it wasn’t difficult to work out what had happened. Nymphadora must have seen the insanity of her ways and left him, and now Lupin had signed himself up for a long-term posting to get over her. Or perhaps he had split up from Nymphadora, was sick of the sight of her and wanted to be rid of her for good. That was understandable, Severus mused. He hid his pleasure when Dumbledore told him the news, although that happiness faded when he realised how dramatic Nymphadora would be about it all. Thankfully, Severus had been busy with his own Order work over the Summer, so he hadn’t had to suffer any more awful meetings in the now-dead Black’s house. Severus was pleased. He was glad to avoid the whole lot of them.

Severus ponders all this as he’s heading down towards the gates (He’s been guarding the doorway, waiting for Potter. The boy is late, of course. He rarely deigns to attend the start-of-term feast on time. Crashing a flying car, fainting theatrics on the train, various little trips to see his Housemistress who invariably lets him off for his misdemeanours. The school has a different rulebook for Potter, although Severus has given up mentioning this to Dumbledore, who remains infatuated with the boy). A Patronus had arrived and told him that Potter was safe (disappointing, Severus mused), and was being brought up to the castle (Precious Potter must have a babysitter wherever he goes). The Patronus had spoken in Nymphadora’s voice, which was strange since last time Severus had seen her cast the charm, her protector had appeared as an annoying rabbit-y thing. It had changed, then- and it had changed into a wolf. Lupin. Severus could almost laugh. How utterly pathetic she was. How long had she known Lupin- a year? Nowhere near long enough to fall in love. It an illusion, a delusion of love. She was stupid and weak. Severus should have a word with Moody about her- she clearly didn’t have the resilience of an Auror.

Severus can see her by the gates with Potter now. Potter, he notes, has grown- all the more reason to cut him back down the size. He isn’t wearing his uniform and, Severus notes as he holds up his lantern, the boy’s face is smeared with blood. Severus does not feel sorry for him.

“Well, well, well. Nice of you to turn up, Potter, although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance,” he drawls, unlocking the chained gate with his wand.

The boy begins to protest but Snape ignores him, turning his attention to Nymphadora. She looks drab; there is no sign of her usual ludicrous hairstyles. Severus assures her that there is no need to accompany them further- contrary to what the Order choose to believe about their golden boy, Potter does not need _two_ escorts to walk him into school. He will have been spoiled enough by Weasley’s relatives over the Summer, and of course on his little sojourn with Dumbledore. The boy needs reminding that he is not the king of this castle.

“I meant Hagrid to get the message,” Nymphadora says. Severus gets a closer look at her face as she frowns at him, and he notices that she doesn’t look merely drab- she looks dreadful. Pasty and gaunt-looking. Stupid girl must believe she’s had her heart broken, Severus thinks. She wouldn’t know the first thing.

“Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead,” Severus explains, letting Potter in through the gate (the temptation to shut him outside forever is a strong one) before slamming it shut.

“And incidentally, I was interested to see your new Patronus. I think you were better off with the old one,” he tells Nymphadora.

Severus sees hurt flash across her face in the lamplight and feels a gleam of satisfaction. Did she expect to go around with a new Patronus, looking dour as widow, and garner _sympathy?_ More theatrics, as usual. She’s brought this all on herself- and so has Lupin, for pretending to be a man when everyone knows that he’s a beast. They are both foolish and naive, and Nymphadora deserves to feel this illusion of anguish for getting involved with a werewolf. Somebody as self-centred as her could not imagine that real love is not about you. It is about the other person. Putting yourself through any humiliation or pain for them, lying and begging for their life and safety, willingness to sacrifice anything. Love is rarely about happiness, and never about you. Nymphadora’s brief infatuation with the werewolf has given her no understanding of this. Of loss. Heartbreak. Despair.

Love.

Severus taps his wand so that the chains snake back around the gates.

“The new one looks weak”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …that’s one of my favourite Snape moments, it’s so nasty and hypocritical. Needless to say, the dialogue between Snape, Tonks and Harry at the gate is taken from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by JK Rowling. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review to let me know what you thought.
> 
> PS- The early paragraphs of this fic owe some ideas to Picking Lilies by Lady Altair, which I recommend if you enjoy Snape-fic.


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